Uncle Larry’s Puppy Farm
By: Susan Michelle Scott
Part V: My First Litter and Later Life
For the next couple of weeks Rex and I kept mating, doing it once or twice a day, but as my tummy got hard and then started to swell I lost interest. After a while I growled at him, whenever he tried to mount me, and even turned around and lightly bit his nose once. I felt like my first priority was to be protective of the baby (or babies) growing inside me. I was frightened and unsure of how they would turn out, as human, dog, or some crazy mix. Marge assured me that they would be perfect mastiff puppies, not human in any way, except possible a little brighter than other dogs. I didn't even know how long they'd be in me. But I had to admit that I was pregnant and that Rex was the only possible father.
Marge again came to my rescue, “Angle, all dogs have their pregnancy come to term in about 63 days. We are, your Uncle Larry and I, setting up a birthing and puppy room in the house, actually in part of the garage. It’s heated, padded and very well insulated. You and your puppies will need to be kept very warm when, and after, you whelp them for their first two weeks of life.
“I’m telling you this because I’ll need to separate you from Rex until we can lower the birthing room’s temperature. I’ll be there to help you when you birth your puppies; I’ve helped lots of bitches whelp their litters. I’m sure you’ve heard that giving birth hurts a lot. That’s true in most cases, with babies, but babies are big compared to puppies. I don’t think the birthing process will hurt you much.”
Marge’s use of the term ‘whelp,’ was constant when she talked to me about the coming puppies. At first I resented it like hell. Even if I was going to have puppies I didn’t see any reason to use the term reserved for dogs about my coming birthing process. I was angry about that for a few days, then one morning, as I was cuddling Rex, I realized that I wanted his puppies because I had given myself to him. I was Rex’s bitch, and it was fair to talk about me ‘whelping’ his young. As I hugged my big guy I relaxed a little bit and decided that I would focus on the magic going on inside me, and the miracle of birth that I’d experience, rather than the words a weirdo like Marge used.
Something more than two months passed, I really wasn’t keeping track of time, but I knew, from the dryness of the fields I could see from the backyard that it was late September or early October. I mean scratching the side of my doghouse to mark the days, seemed kind of silly. Of course, another indication was my seemingly ever-growing belly. It was huge and hard, and it was a trial to walk around at all. As my pregnant belly grew, I accepted that I was pregnant by Rex. He was the only male every to deposit sperm in me, Marge said it was so, and my pregnancy was progressing much faster than it would in a normal woman’s womb. I hated Marge for falling in with Uncle Larry’s plan to steal my humanity, but while she’d done terrible things to me, she always had told me the truth. Even before I graduated. She’s said my breasts would grow, be firm and that my upper chest would fill out. They still were, although they had grown fuller the last few weeks and felt swollen. Marge had also said my periods might stop all together, but that I would still be able to get pregnant, and that my body hair wouldn’t grow back. It had all been true. She hadn’t told me everything, but what she said had all turned out to be true.
For several weeks I’d been feeling my little ones kick inside of me. I knew there were more than three puppies, but couldn’t guess how many more. I’d counted that many kicking at the same time. How I'd gotten so many was unknown to me. Although I wondered if the number of times that Rex and I had mated related in some way to the number of puppies I’d have. I hoped so. Then each one would be the product of a very happy moment. Marge said it was my last week one day and I hoped she was right. My belly was so big that moving at all was an ordeal and the only clear thoughts in my mind were that I wanted it to be over, and that every part of my body hurt.
I awoke in the night and felt wetness all over my thighs. I was sleeping next to Rex and his fur was wet too. I figured it was my uterus telling me it was time. I nuzzled Rex awake, and pushed him out of the doghouse. He knew what was going on, and lay down at the door to the pen. I quickly arranged our blanket to keep me warm and leaned against the wall. I waited for Marge, hoping she’d get me to the birthing space she’d talked of soon. I felt that, ready or not, the first puppy was coming.
A few hours Marge found me and with Uncle Larry’s help, before the main event, they put me in a wheelbarrow that was padded with lots of blankets and took me out of the birthing pen; Marge called it the whelping pen. Rex looked longingly at me, but seemed to know I needed to go somewhere else to birth our puppies. He barked and yelped, but didn’t try to stop Marge and Uncle Larry from taking me.
The space they took me to was very clean, very soft and hot. Marge said it needed to be over 90 degrees to protect the puppies from a chill. At that point there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my puppies, so I endured the heat, reminding myself, as I sweat in the heat, that it was for the good of the new lives that Rex and I had made.
It was in-fact painful when the first puppy breeched my cervix and came through my birth canal. After many pushes, the first puppy came out. Marge showed me the puppy as she cleaned it, it was the cutest little bitch I’d ever seen. Then she gave me the placenta and said, “Eat it. Your puppies will need you to strong and healthy. You’ll need the extra strength it will give you, to feed your young.”
The idea was gross, but she’d said the magic words, ‘the puppies will need.’ I ate it up thinking about being a good mother. I didn’t like the taste at all, but with every swallow reminding myself that my puppies needed me to eat it. After I’d finished Marge handed me my firstborn puppy and helped me put her to my breast. She latched on to my nipple as soon as she could and a moment later I felt the most amazing thing. Something happened in my chest and a moment later I realized it was my milk, flowing from my body and feeding my puppy. I looked at it closely and it was a she was a perfect little dog. I was happy, because I hadn't wanted some freaky human/dog mix.
I forgot the nursing puppy as the second puppy began its journey through my cervix and birth canal. It too found its way out after many hard and painful pushes. So did the next three. The sixth, seventh and eighth puppies needed only a few pushes, and the ninth only one. It was followed by an additional push to get out the extra blood, tissue, and fluids in my womb. Marge later told me that my labor had lasted seven hours, and that whelping my future litters, might take as long as longer, but would hurt less.
Marge cleaned them each off and put them, two by two to my breasts, then fed me the placenta. I was worried about how I could feed them all but Marge, sweating from the heat, stayed with me and helped me get into a routine of rotating the puppies. She had trouble telling them apart, but I didn’t even have to look. I could smell which was which. I loved them all, and was immensely happy to have them. The only thing that could have made me happier was if I could have had Rex with me so I could show him what our love had created.
I finished cleaning them off using the tongue, bit through their cords, ate the placentas and made sure each new arrival had time at one of my tits. In turn they each latched on with their tiny teeth. It hurt, but I made make sure they all received their fair share of my milk.
After an hour of my nine puppies competing for my milk, they settled down and curled up next to me. Looked at them and realized I was right in track for Uncle Larry’s Plan, I’d had nine puppies, and if he bred me twice a year that would be the eighteen the hoped for. I didn’t like that. There was no way I wanted to go through being pregnant and whelping process twice a year. I was angry for a minute, but then realized that the next time I went into heat, I’d happily welcome Rex puppy maker inside me, and it would all happen again. Having been through my first heat I knew there was no way I would not offer myself to my lover the next time, and every time it happened. It was simple, if I went into heat twice a year I’d get pregnant twice a year.
Two days later, Marge brought Rex in to see me. He beamed and licked my face as he saw my nursing our young. When Marge took him out of the very hot puppy nursery. He refused to go father than the door, and lay down in front of the door, guarding our young and me. The door was glass, and I liked being able to see Rex, and knowing he was there watching over us.
Later, Uncle Larry came out to see the puppies and came into the nursery. Rex followed him in, but Uncle Larry didn’t notice. I growled at Uncle Larry when he tried to touch a puppy, and he smacked my nose, I bit him. He got angry and started to hit me again, and Rex's teeth made a bigger mark than mine had. After that, Uncle Larry left my puppies and me alone. Marge visited three times a day, sat with me and fed me food, she said the food was good for nursing mothers, be they bitches or human.
After two weeks the puppies’ eyes were open and they were walking around and playing with each other. Marge said they were ready to return to our kennel and moved us out there. I was happy to be home. I cried as I realized that the doghouse I shared with Rex was home, rather than the house I’d always thought of as home, but it was warm, Rex was there, and our little ones were there, nursing from my breasts. That made it home, and I was content and happy. I started taking walks with Rex in the morning again, a leash clipped to my collar, of course. Uncle Larry couldn’t keep his eyes of my swollen milk filled breasts, but he was smart enough to know that Rex would tear him to peaces if he attacked me.
In our kennel, after a week of keeping my eyes on Rex, I allowed him to watch the puppies when I was eating or going to the bathroom. He was a great father, just as he had seemed he would be when he bred me.
My baby belly went away and then my muscles got taught again and my figure regained its shape, except for my milky breasts. At least, until after I weaned the puppies, when they returned to almost the size they were before I was bred, just a little bigger. When Marge took me into bath, I liked what I saw in the mirror. My hair was longer, and fuller, my hips were more rounded, and my waste was narrow and my core looked well defined and strong. My breasts were firm, large and rode high and proud on my chest. Their swelling extended up my chest to my collarbone and my cleavage was deep. My skin was still dark and my arms and legs were well muscled and looked long and thin. One change I really liked is a little patch of short faun colored fur that perfectly matched Rex’s had grown on the mound just above my valley. Rex seemed to like it too; I leaned when we returned to giving each other pleasure every morning.
Three more months went by, and Marge came and told me the puppies were old enough to be sold. I'd had so little time with them, yet something in me agreed that they were ready to go to their new families. Uncle Larry set up a big puppy play-pen in what had been the birthing room, and let potential buyers see them there, away from Rex and I.
I missed them, but I was glade I couldn’t see the people rejecting one and selecting another and talking about them like they were just dogs. Of course, it wouldn’t have worked for the buyers to see that the bitch that had birthed the puppies was human. Those that wanted to see the mother was told I was at the vet’s recovering from complications that occurred during the birth.
Uncle Larry was very pleased at how much they sold for, more than he’d expected, the averaged more than $1,200 each. He and Marge let me keep one. Rex and I chose our littlest (which was also the last one I'd birthed). Before they were sold Uncle Larry registered all the puppies with the AKC and proudly showed me my name, as bitch, listed on each of their registration papers
Uncle Larry named the puppy I got to keep him Laser, since he was so fast. I could care less, because he was "My Little One," to me. Every night I cried, missing my other eight, but I had Rex to comfort me. I was back to feeling horny all the time, and Rex had just what I needed to take care of that.
After the puppies were sold Rex, Laser, and I had lots of good times running and playing with each other. Fortunately, it really doesn’t get all that cold during the day in winter in central California. At night the three of us were warm and cozy sleeping in a pile in our doghouse.
I returned to mating with Rex, and it was better than it had been before. It was a little awkward with Laser watching, but when he tried to join in, I was able to make him understand that my sex was forbidden fruit.
Rex and I mostly made love in the missionary position, since I loved seeing him, and holding him, as we became one flesh. It was only a few more weeks until the idea of getting pregnant started to seem wonderful to me. I still wanted to get away from my Uncle Larry and Marge, but wasn’t sure if it was possible with Rex and Laser. Of course, leaving them behind was unthinkable.
I trusted Marge to tell me the truth, but that doesn’t mean I liked her. Given the chance, I think I would have killed them both if Rex and our puppy could get away together with me after they were nice and dead. I no longer was frightened of having puppies, but couldn’t bare the idea of being away from Rex. I’d done it and it was one of the happiest times of my life. I knew that when I went into heat again I’d be pregnant within hours, and I knew I would need somewhere warm and soft to whelp my puppies. Uncle Larry’s farm, with Marge to help was, a better place to be bred than I figured I could find if I escaped. Resigned to my fait, I let ideas of escape slip from plans to dreams.
Over the next year, I had two more litters with Rex (twenty-one puppies in all and thirty counting all three of my litters). I wasn’t allowed to keep another of my puppies, since I already had Laser and Rex trying to contend for my womb. I continued to not let Laser do me, first, because I considered him a son, and second, because Rex was my mate.
Uncle Larry started talking about getting another girl to breed puppies with Laser. I hoped he wouldn’t, but he went cruising shelter for homeless women in nearby cities. I was happy being Rex’s mate, but I hadn’t chosen the life of a bitch, and I wouldn’t have if I’d been asked. I made me sick to think about Uncle Larry trapping some other young woman into being a breeding bitch for his puppy farm; even if she was very kind to my sweet Laser.
A few weeks later Uncle Larry created a second dog run and doghouse and was having Laser sleep there. As I watched him building another large dog house I knew it won’t be long until I saw my son breeding some girl as part of Uncle Larry’s puppy farm. If I could, I’d kill Uncle Larry rather than let him make another girl into a bitch dog. I love my Rex, but I figure I’m lucky, and it might have easily ended in my going crazy. Of course, maybe it did.
The following week I was surprised to see Marge, nude, join Laser in the new dog run. Her cage wasn’t locked, and she still took me indoors to bath every day or so. We bathed together when she took me indoors because she was living outdoors and needed it. In fact I got to bath more often because living in doghouse turned out to be much dirtier than Marge had imagined.
Marge told me that she didn’t want my Uncle Larry bringing her some terrified homeless girl her for to change into a puppy breeding bitch. She said she had put her foot down and that was when Larry said then that, in that case, she should become Laser’s bitch. Well, she really does like mating with dogs better than men, and Laser is a great beauty, in a mastiff kind of way. Added to that was the fact that she really did want to ‘whelp’ litters of puppies. It ended with Uncle Larry not having any trouble getting her to agree to give the treatment to herself.
One nice change was that she let me talk to her when we were bathing together, away from Uncle Larry’s prying ears and eyes. Marge told me that she had given herself the treatment so she could have Laser’s puppies, and that she hoped it wouldn’t take to long for her to be imprinted by him as a mastiff bitch. I figured it wouldn’t. We watched, and from what Rex and I could see, Marge and Laser where busy trying to make puppies every few hours.
That made me more interested as I watched Marge and Laser in their cage. She slowly took him from cuddling with her, to licking her sex, to her licking his maleness, to getting him to mount her. Uncle Larry neglected his farm because of the amount of time he spent watching Marge mating with Laser. Unlike me, Marge seemed to delight in letting him watch. Uncle Larry would set up a lawn chair near the cage Marge and Laser were in, and drink beer and masturbate as he watched Laser breed Marge.
I as glade my deer son was going to get to pass his fine qualities on to their puppies, but I would have preferred it if his mate was a real mastiff bitch. But, after a while I was OK with Laser breeding Marge. No unwilling girl was involved, and Marge would probably be able to be Laser’s breeding partner for the rest of his life. They both had about ten years of breeding left. Besides, Marge seemed to delight in making my son happy, and was treating him better than she ever had Uncle Larry.
I’d whelped my forth litter and they’d been sold off before Marge managed to get herself imprinted and pregnant with Laser’s puppies. I realized that was what had happened one morning when I saw her emerge from her doghouse and run to a large basin and threw-up. I knew she wasn’t sick, because she was so happy about it after she’d voided her tummy. I consoled myself with knowing that my baby had a bitch that really wanted his puppies, even if she was a little old for him.
When I thought about it, I still want to escape, but increasingly I feel as trapped by circumstances as I was by the wire of my kennel. But I feared leaving Uncle Larry’s puppy farm too. ‘Where, but on the farm, could Rex safely breed me?’ I wondered.
Marge had told me that Rex would be to old to breed me anymore in just a few more years, eight at most. I cried for two days when she said I’d be lucky if he was still alive in ten years. I cried, but knew that when Rex slowed down, and I went into heat I’d need a new stud to breed me or I’d go crazy. At best Rex would breed me fifteen or sixteen more times and I figured I was looking at going into heat another fifty or more times before menopause slowed me down.
Marge had six puppies in her first litter. She’d taught me what to do to help her when her time came and I kind of enjoyed seeing my grand-puppies born. Uncle Larry hated our talking as I helped Marge whelp her litter, but Marge told him it was necessary if all the puppies were to survive. It was amazing to watch the new little life issue from Marge’s birth canal, and since it was a process I’d been through, and knew I’d be going through again, it was very interesting. In the following weeks I got to play with the puppies too. No grandmother could have been happier. When I saw what good care she was taking of my grand-puppies I even started to hate Marge a little less. At first I’d been worried, given her age, that her milk production wouldn’t meet the little ones needs. But I needn’t have been concerned. Marge turned into a great little milk producer. She even milked herself into a bucket Uncle Larry gave her and gave it back to him for his consumption. Something I’d never considered and refused to do later when Uncle Larry asked me to.
It was something he tried to make me do, even setting up a little human size milking machine, but when he trued to drag me to it, he had Rex to deal with again, and my lover ended his plans with a loud growl and snap of his strong jaws.
I was even madder than before at Uncle Larry, but after thinking about it, I decided that he was being punished in a way too. Marge would no longer have sex with him. Even if she’d been willing, Laser wasn’t about to let another male touch his bitch. Uncle Larry had to be home all the time to take care of us dogs, and make sure we, or at least Rex and I didn’t escape. He couldn’t have a woman friend come over, because she’d see the penned women in the backyard and probably set the law on him. So the jerk was living in a kind of forced celibacy. I liked that.
In my forth year of breeding Uncle Larry’s puppy farm netted thirty-nine grand out of the puppies that Marge and I had. Her litters were always smaller than mine. She said it was because she was older, but she hoped that her litters would get larger as her body learned better that she was now a mastiff bitch.
My own litters had increased with each pregnancy. My forth litter was fourteen. I figured Marge might be right, although it’s a lot of work to nurse a dozed or more puppies; and to do the job my breasts seemed to get huge, which I didn’t like much. But they shrank back down after I’d weaned the puppies and, Marge said thanks to the tea, they would always returned to the nice shape they’d gotten to when I was taking the tea every night.
Uncle Larry stopped talking about letting me go. It was pretty clear that as long as he was alive, I’d be breeding puppies for him to sell. He also began hinting that in a year or two he would get another Mastiff stud to breed me, when Rex starts to lose interest.
Increasingly my feeling was that I wouldn’t be free of Uncle Larry until he was dead. I liked that idea, until I began to fear that if he died, Rex and I would starve in our cage. But Marge assured me that she’d let us out, and then she and I would decide how we wanted to run the puppy farm. Once I’d seen my grand-puppies birthed from Marge’s body I sort of lost interest in hating her. We were both bitches being bred for puppies. The fact that I’d been trapped into it while she had chosen it seemed less significant than it had.
One morning, it must have been about eight years, or sixteen litters by my reckoning, after Uncle Larry made me into Rex’s breeding partner, Uncle Larry didn’t come out in the morning a feed Rex, Laser, Marge and I. We waited a long time, it seemed like hours anyway. There was no clock in the doghouse. Then Marge let herself out of the cage and went into the house to see what was going on. Marge had told Larry early on, that it was his job to provide food and water to all of us. He wanted her to handle feeding and watering the dogs, but she said if she had to do that that, the nonstop sex show she was putting on with Laser would move into the doghouse and to times when he wasn’t around.
A few minutes later she came out and unlocked my cage, tossing the lock over the fence when she was done.
“Your Uncle Larry died last night, Angle.” She told me in a soft voice. I could tell she was near tears. I guess she liked him, but it was all I could do not to dance a jig.
We talked about it and decided we should leave Rex and Laser outside for the day. Go in the house and get into some clothes, then call the police or coroner or who ever. We did, and an hour later the cope, the coroner and a whole flock of EMTs were crawling all over Uncle Larry in what had been his office. I tried not to laugh and succeeded, just barely. Uncle Larry had a heart attack while masturbating in front of his computer watching a film of a dog mating a woman. He’d put on a lot of weight since he stopped working the farm and was getting near seventy, so it wasn’t a huge shock that he’d died.
Marge and I told everyone that I’d been home a few weeks, after hitching across county after spending most of the last few years living in Europe, with a succession of different men. We’d gone to bed around midnight, but Uncle Larry had wanted to stay up later which he often did. Everyone was very upset about the image on the screen in front of Dead Uncle Larry when we’d found him, except me, of course. But I managed to not laugh and giggle about it until it was just Marge and I in the house.
Marge was sort of shaken by Uncle Larry’s death. I guess she had really liked the creep. There is no accounting for taste, I guess.
After a lot of paperwork it turned out that I inherited the farm. Uncle Larry had never married and I was his only known living relation. My dad had been his little brother. The farm was paid off, thanks to the puppies, and there was a few thousand besides. What was better I learned that the trust fund my parents had left me had recovered and was worth six figures.
After a lot of talking, mostly I talked things over with Rex, who I think understood every word I said and seemed somehow to always help me think clearly, ‘we’ decided that Marge should stay on the farm with her mate, my son, Laser. We’d continue the puppy business together, and the profits from her breeding were to be hers and mine. I knew enough about the world to know you don’t sell land in California. I leased out the fields to neighboring farmers for a flat fee that covered the taxes, and a share of the net sales of the crops they grew. One of my neighbors had brought me that idea, after I’d said I wouldn’t sell, and I‘d agree to try it. That brought the farms income up to net that was impressive.
Marge agreed to help me with the place and I agreed to place ten percent of the farms net income in a tax differed retirement account for her. I set up one for myself and maxed it out.
We modified the house, so that Rex and Laser could live inside with us, creating two large kennel suites, one for Laser and Marge and the second for Rex and me. The bed was huge, custom built for a large dog and a girl, with lots of comfy spots for mating. There was a nursery with separate heat, and a bath that even Rex thought was fun and luxuries.
I’ve given up any hope of ever living in Europe, but I have been taking a two-week vacation there every year, after the summer litter is weaned and adopted, and before I go into heat again. The puppy farm is a happy place now, and it’s where Rex is, making it home.
Rex is now eleven, and when I go into heat he can’t do me as often as my body wants it. Never the less, I had ten puppies in my last litter. Laser is getting on in years too, so Marge and I have been looking for two young dogs with great bloodlines to bring to the farm. I’m hoping Rex will be content, watching another dog breed me, when he’s too tired to, and that watching will excite him enough to get him to mount me again. In fact, when he’s here, the young dog will have to wait until Rex is sleeping, exhausted and happy having bred his bitch before getting to do me.
I decided to write this narrative up as a way of introducing the Puppy Farm to other young women. Since I can’t have children, and neither can Marge we decided to recruit a very few willing women to become a breeding bitches at the farm, sort of setting it up as a cooperative business, since I won’t have anyone to leave it to. Marge thought it would be easy, and finding women who liked the idea of having a litter of puppies wasn’t hard, but we found that once a prospective candidate understands that she will lose her ability to ever have children, she tends to hesitate. We don’t want our nature, and business to become publicly known, so recruiting is very tricky. Ideally we will bring a new young woman in about every ten years. With retirement savings, after a bitch is all bred out, she will be able to live in style just about anywhere she likes, leaving the business of puppy making to women left at the farm. Of course, once you are no longer able to have puppies, you may not lose interest in feeling a mastiff filling you with his seed.
I know that I will travel more and more, but home is now my puppy farm, and when I’m down what I need most is to be covered by a fuzzy gentle giant that is my own breed.