As today is Whatever-Dude’s one-year anniversary, Dave, Paul and the gang wanted to do something extremely special to impress everyone. Something that would really stress the importance of the site and its readers, and the impressive success that W-D has achieved in only one short year. While conversations of a possible live web-cast of a huge celebration from NYC, loose strippers popping out of anniversary cakes, and even re-launching the site were all strong possibilities... the W-D clan made the most of their money and hired me... Eric Fields.
Some of you may know me, and thus will mark this date as my long-awaited return. Some of you have no clue who I am, and thus will mark this date as, um... Tuesday, February 12th. I could go on forever with this introduction, telling you of my long and rich history in the online writing community, how I’ve been friends with Dave, Paul, and Matthew for a number of years, how many great things I‘ll be bringing to the forefront at W-D, how I was going to start with this site shortly after it’s cherry popped exactly one year ago today, or any number of other things... but I won’t. I’ll just tell you one key factor that is of great importance to the future of W-D. That’s right, I’m the newest addition to Whatever-Dude, and I even have the new car smell... so scratch, sniff, and enjoy.
For my W-D debut, I’m going to give you an inside look at one of America’s strongest small-businesses... dog breeding. For those who know me, you may or may not realize that I’m recycling one of my favorite past articles... but before rants of being lazy or whatever start, think of it as “a classic story, re-envisioned.” If it can work for Tim Burton, it can damn well work for me. At any rate, dog breeding is not always pretty, and it’s not always fun. But the fact remains that dogs are still man’s best friend and business partner. Hopefully after reading through my experiences as a dog-dealing entrepreneur, the next time your significant other wants a puppy because they’re so cute... you’ll look at the big picture and see opportunity. Yeah, they’re cute and will make a great addition to your family... but they’re also worth a shit-load of money if you make it your duty to pimp out that booty.
Everyone loves sex, including dogs. Recently my family's Golden Retriever, Molly, went into heat… which for those of you who don't know, a female dog going into heat means that they're able to become pregnant. Ovulation: doggy style, as it were. It also means that unless you put a damn diaper on them, the bloody bitches will be dripping crimson rain all over the Fields Estate. She's about 5 years old now and I've bred her once, so I figured it was time, once again, for us to allow another Golden Retriever to penetrate our pet in the most private of female body cavities… but more importantly, bring in $800 per-puppy that our bitch pops out. Molly gets fucked during a time in which she's damn horny, and in the end of this saga, I get in the neighborhood of $7,500 to invest, so everyone comes out a winner. That may sound like a lot of money, but when you have full-bred dogs with AKC champion bloodlines, it's chump change. If you're a dog person, I strongly recommend going into this business… the profits are outstanding, and everyone loves to play with puppies.
When I saw the blood drops on the floor, I knew that my dog was ready for me to pimp her out for my own personal benefit. She'll get sex, I'll get money, and some happy families will have a new, expensive pet. First thing I had to do is to cover up the furniture and/or floors with whatever will prevent the bloody whore from staining them. Molly will lick her poontang and thus clean herself from time to time, but that alone isn't good enough. She's like an annoying broken faucet, constantly dripping when you don't want it to… but in her case, it's blood and it has free reign to land, and thus stain, wherever she may wander off to.
The next thing I had to do is make the call to the owner of the stud-dog of our choice, at their home in West Virginia. I tell them that Molly's ready to be fucked silly, and we then make the arrangements for her to stay at their home for a week and get banged at least 5 times over the next 7 days. Being a dog breeder, in some strange way, makes you feel like an Iranian farmer... you make arrangements to give away your young ‘daughter’ to an older man for a small profit. Whether that profit be money or sheep makes no matter, really, because you’re still allowing someone to pop your beloved’s cherry for a little compensation.
At any rate, the people I breed Molly with have about 15 Golden Retrievers running around, and breed them all, either by having the females get pregnant over and over or making their males constantly play the part of man-whores, as their little business. Those 15 dogs don't include the constant puppies they have running around nor the horny visitors they have who are there to get pregnant… so as you may have guessed, these people are constantly surrounded by large numbers of dogs. When you show up there, you can fully expect to have your crotch sniffed or your leg to be humped. It's not your typical business office, but who am I to complain? At professional dog breeders' homes, you have this type of thing going on. It’s like when you go to a movie theater, you get a combination of sugar, popcorn, and semen on your shoes… it may not be the most fantastic of places to do pay for a service rendered, but you know, shit happens.
So when the fateful day arrives for Molly to take that 4-hour fantastic voyage in the backseat of the Batmobile, which I've lovingly nicknamed our Lincoln Continental, we pack her things… her leash is attached onto her collar, and then we have her food, food-dish, and water-dish. It's amazing how little dogs require to live their lives… hell, if I don't have 2 q-tips to clean my ears every day, I go completely insane and then piss on the walls or throw grape jelly around the kitchen. Maybe dogs DO have it better than we humans, who knows. Some people enjoy the simplicities of life, and that's what a dog's life is all about... eating, sleeping, a little playing, a lot of affection, and a 15-minute shag from time to time will go a long way with man's best friend.
Anyway, we must not forget about the bloody mess coming from little Molly's vagina, and we sure as hell don't want to stain the leather interior to a $50K automobile… what are we to do? Of course, there's a simple solution. Tighty-whities. The same thing all 7th grade boys are ridiculed for wearing when they change for gym class will be the same thing to prevent the backseat from becoming a bloodbath. The piss-hole fits nicely around her tail, so that's a plus. Also, we lay down some old blankets back there incase any red drips happen to get passed the thin, white cloth. Obviously some high-cost pet supply stores have real protection for such a situation, but they also sell videos of birds flying around so your cats don’t shit on the floor when you go to work... so what the hell do they know?
Now the time has come to make the 4-hour drive to the annals of WV, which is usually a hellacious journey. Dogs always piss me off when stick their head out the window. I don't usually drive around with my dog in my car like other white trash who you'd typically see at the mall driving around pointlessly in circles or sitting in Wal-Mart's parking lot to be 'cool', so it always makes me nervous. Molly's a bright dog, she listens to most of her orders I give her, but damn, at times she can be one dumb bitch. I'm always convinced that anytime I take her for a car ride, be it to the vet or to the dog whore-house, she's going to jump out of the fucking window and any given moment. It's not even possible, because Golden Retrievers are what most would call a ‘big dog.’ They stand about 2-feet high and weigh around 80-pounds, or at least in that general area. For them to fit out of a window of the backseat window would be next to impossible unless they had some assistance, so I don't know what the hell my problem is. But I can't tell you how many times I almost crashed into another car, some roadside object, or even someone walking in their front yard. So finally I wised up and started to put up the windows when she‘s in the car, in hopes of not to kill myself or someone else along the way.
When we arrived at Marygold Pines, which is the name of the breeder's home where all of this fun goes down, it was like Doggy Heaven. Molly knew it too, because she was impatiently running around the backseat in an orgasmic state. She had been there before, and apparently from her almost annoying excitement, she had recognized the place where puppies are produced. It's not a normal house, oh no. It's literally acres and acres of open lawn and wooded areas, some fenced in kennels, and of course the actual home. As I drove back the long, dirt road that went through the woods, and we actually got close to the house, it was a site that you don't see on an every-day basis. Actually, it was something that if a person sees only once in their lifetime, they could consider themselves lucky. What was this splendor, you ask? Well, dogs fucking EVERYWHERE, of course. Everywhere you turned, you'd see one Golden Retriever mounting another, two dogs going at it like crazed porn stars, or the money shot… the male pulling out just as he finishes ejaculating, spilling the last little bit of semen onto the ground below. Men ejaculate all the time, and all the time, we look at it in awe… simply because it's there and we just had an orgasm. Well if you can imagine that, but looking at a dog in the situation, maybe you have an idea of how this looks. The best thing about it though, is that these people had their grandkids playing baseball in one of the open fields where a couple sets of dogs were getting it on. These kids, who couldn't have been more than 10 or 11 each, didn't let the love making that was going on 50 feet away from them affect their game at all. I know that if I was 10 years old and happened see 2 dogs getting it on, I sure as hell would drop whatever else I was doing, and just stand there either laughing or crying, I‘m honestly not sure which.
At any rate, the woman who ran the breeding business and her husband came out to greet us, and then we were introduced to all of the stud dogs that we could choose to fuck Molly. We picked a fellow named Rowdy, basically because he was the best looking out of all the other dogs, he had the best family bloodlines, and was also a championship-winning dog, the ‘best in show.’ We picked him because he was, more-or-less, the best choice as far as what you look for in a stud dog. So we signed some papers, took some pictures of Rowdy alone and of he and Molly together, and right then and there, after we had taken some of the pictures, Rowdy jumped on top of Molly and started humping away… I only wish that I would have taken pictures. I didn't though, because I was afraid that these folks would think that I was some kind of animal pornographer or something, and come and post those pictures on the Internet… which I would have. But does that make me an animal pornographer? Well, if the money’s in the right place... who knows. Anyway, Molly and Rowdy had "dated" while we were signing the papers that needed signed and while I paid the stud fees, so they were ready to go at it. When dogs date, as I like to call it, they begin to associate with each other by playing or sniffing each other's ass, fun things like that. Similar to how some humans date, I suppose. Doggy dating, however, takes only minutes before they'll fuck each other, where in human terms, the effort is much harder and usually takes much longer to get laid. Unless you’re paying or she’s really, really ugly, of course.
Confident that Molly and Rowdy would fuck each other numerous times, in turn impregnating my dog, we left Marygold Pines and returned home. A week went by, and we again left for West Virginia to go pick Molly up. I had found out that Molly was a filthy little whore, as she and Rowdy did it doggie-style 10 times, which was double the original agreement. I wasn't charged extra, because the owners said that Rowdy had just as good a time as Molly, and since we were repeat customers of their breeding service were considered family. Fuck that, I don’t believe my family would allow the kids to play catch while the dogs were grinding each other in orgasmic joy. At any rate, after getting fucked 10 times we were all pretty sure that Molly was pregnant, but only time would tell for sure. So all was good, and we left for home. As we drove away, once again, Golden Retrievers making sweet, sweet love made a moment that was fit for a Christmas card… well, that would be the case if people like to celebrate Christ's birthday by looking at dogs humping each other.
After we were back at the Fields Estate, however, trouble came about. Molly was now used to getting laid twice a day, and now had no other dog to satisfy her needs. So what does she do? She mounts our cats and begins to hump away… of course it's not doing any good, because she's not getting penetrated thus not getting satisfied. The only thing Molly attempting to screw our cats did accomplish was scaring the bejesus out of them. Well that, and one of them limped around for a week because Molly must have pulled one of the cat’s muscles. Sometimes, at night, I still see their little heads bouncing back and forth in sheer terror because of what Molly was doing to them. After a while though, at long last, Molly went out of heat and went back to normal.
Now, however, we've confirmed that she is in fact pregnant, and she's annoying the living hell out of us. She won't eat her food, but she'll eat the cats' food. She won't go outside to pee and poo when it's appropriate for everyone else, but she'll wake us in the middle of the night. She'll sit there and stair at you for hours, panting with bad-breath, and, not to forget, try to eat your food before you even have attempted to. She begs for food and attention, and when she gets it, she'll either spit it out or go lay down. She's pissing the hell out of me, but I guess that's what you deal with when your dog is pregnant. So Molly will annoy the fuck out of me for about 6 more weeks, until she reaches her due-date. At that point, only two things are for sure... there will be a ton of puppy shit to clean up for 8 weeks, but after that, I’ll be laughing all the way to the bank.
AIM: WD ECF