The pickup truck came to a stop. Chad lifted the paws from his head and moved toward the crate's door. He
heard the truck door slam and feet retreating on the gravel. Then nothing for nearly 15 minutes. The heat
beats down on Chad's crate. He should be sweating, but instead he is panting like a dog. Then he heard
gravel crunch under approaching boots. A hand grasped the latch, and opened the cage. Chad backed away from
the open door until he saw a familiar face in the cage opening. It was his buddy Todd. Chad's spirits soared.
His best friend had come to rescue him. He barked happily and leaped through the cage door and into Todd's
arms. He couldn't help but lap Todd's face. Todd laughed. Then Chad heard a click. Todd had attached a leash
to his dog collar.
"Good boy, Chad, I'm happy to see you too, stud," Todd said, "Come boy. Heel."
Chad was confused, but he followed Todd obediently at Todd's heels.
Todd hummed a tune, while he led his best friend around the house to the kennels. Chad remembered that Todd's
family owned a puppy mill. They bred dogs for pet shops all over the country. There had been an accident
last month, a carbon monoxide leak had wiped out most of the canine stock. Todd had said that only a couple
dozen bitches had survived and no studs. Chad had expressed concern, but said he was sure insurance would
cover their losses. Todd had replied, "If they had any."
Chad's cock twitched. He suddenly felt horny as the pheromones of the twenty-four bitches in heat hit his
nose. Todd led Chad to the veterinary room.
"Up on the table, Chad. We need to give you your shots, and get some sperm samples," Todd said.
Chad whined, but Todd tugged on the leash, and Chad hopped up on the exam table.