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Thursday, June 9, 2016 [19:32]

>Good evening, bros. and gal pals! I hope everyone is doing well tonight.

>I have exciting news to share with all of you this evening. Something brand new I've been working on. No, it isn't a Bro Blog, and it's certainly not a Confessions tale. What I have is something that I've been considering for a while now. Take a moment, relax and read to what I have to say. For those of you that are just tuning in for the first time, my name is Duke Kyle Rocheister. I am a twenty-eight-year-old Great Dane living in a coastal megacity known as Port Providence on the continent of Grandis. Currently, I am attending Winchester Heights University with my fiancé, a dragon named Thraxan. I am the creator of the erotic series Bro Blogs/Confessions of a Bro which you can view on the site linked here . I also happen to run a friendly fraternity known as D.O.G (Delta Omega Gamma). We have thirty-three handsome residents inhabiting this fraternity. It's like one ginormous family.

>Right now, I'm sure some of you are thinking 'Wow, Duke! Thirty-three guys living under the same roof? How do you do it'? Well, I will admit at times it was pretty tough. Not everyone gets along, but we manage. All of us here at D.O.G are brothers; a pack of friends and family until the end no matter what. Sentimental-sounding, right? Over the course of several years the fraternity has grown substantially. It truly is an amazing feat. But, that is not the reason I am here to brag about my exploits for D.O.G Fraternity.

>On the contrary, there have been a couple curious viewers of my site that ask me how did D.O.G come to be. It's a very simple question, not one that I often get into. Yet, the more I pondered on this inquiry, the more I discovered that no one truly knows the story behind the fraternity, or the fellow bros. that reside here. I've might've mentioned it once or twice in some of my blogs, but when you get down to it, it was just brushed over. Well, that ends right now. For tonight, everyone will learn about the history of D.O.G along with all the bros.

>So, without further ado, I give to you all: "The Chronicles of D.O.G"

>Chronicles of D.O.G - Entry 1:Duke Rocheister

>Where to begin than the very beginning, right? I think it was probably five or six years ago after I got the acceptance letter from Winchester Heights University, or WHU for short (pronounced 'whoo', like an owl). I was around twenty-two-years-old, fresh on the campus scene and ready to start my life as an independent dog. Yeah, right. I was there for the parties, mostly. And the sex. Let's not forget about the sex! It was a time for experimenting and discovering what I want to do with my life, and have fun while searching down that road. Also, I do apologize in advance if I get carried away. Nostalgia tends to hit me hard when I reminisce about the good times. Aw, shit, I'm doing it now aren't I. #LOL

>Now where was I?

>Oh, right! So it was around mid-morning. I just woke up to my Uncle Max shouting my name from downstairs. Before I go any further, I should probably explain something. Uncle Max really isn't my biological uncle, he's my godfather. When I was really young, around eight or so, my parents, my little brother and I were in a really terrible accident. It was during a time when Grandis was at war with the continental kingdom of Glypharius. We were driving down the interstate highway when something exploded. I don't remember much, just my mother screaming and suddenly a blinding white flash erupted in my eyes. My body felt like it was on fire before blacking out. Later on, I woke up in the hospital with Uncle Max holding onto my paw. His hand was so much bigger than mine, and warm too. Only I survived the incident. Since then, Max raised me like his own pup. After his wife passed away he had been left alone. She was barren, unable to produce offspring for him.

>To be honest, I did not have any immediate family in the area. So it was either Max took me in, or I go put into a foster home and hope for the best. I guess this was his way of having the son he could never have. He took me in and raised me like his own. It was not easy. He didn't have an understanding of how to raise a pup. And, it wasn't easy for me to really get used to living with a dog that I barely knew anything about. All I knew was he and my dad, Charlie, were best friends since puppyhood. But after Dad got married to my mom, Uncle Max did not come around so much. He was always the guy that gave us presents on our birthdays and All Saint's Day, nothing more. Plus, he was always so busy with work, but I was never bored. You see, Uncle Max was the President of several companies in Port Providence. He's filthy rich, still is in fact. It wasn't like I was ever alone. I had the maids and servants to tend to my needs. Yet, even they knew raising a pup was no easy task. A couple of them had kids of their own. They tried to befriend me, but I compensated their kindness with the bitterness and anger that I felt deep down. My family was gone; I was an orphan, playing the small part of some Rottweiler's desire to have a son.

>As the years passed on, I grew unruly and very angry. I started fights at school on a regular basis to the point I would get kicked out. Uncle Max was none too pleased. Whenever he put me into a new system, I would just get kicked out even quicker. It got so bad he hired a stay-at-home scholar to educate me. Even then, I bailed on my lessons and went to run wild with some of the older kids of Port Providence. Punks and hustlers alike. A pack that I could fit in with; a pack that understood me. They were my family. I started smoking when I was twelve; did tricks when I was thirteen for drug money. Lost my virginity to some old pervert in a back alley just because I picked a fight with him for looking at me the wrong way. And it just kept getting worse as I grew older.

>I was so hostile in my teen years. Not even my best bro Nathan (you'll hear his stories later on too) wanted to be around me. But I didn't really care. I was young; invincible. My pack was with me and they'd stick by my side through thick-and-thin. And then. . .something happened that truly turned my life upside down. You know when they say that it's a 'dog eat dog world out there'? Yeah, they aren't joking. This, this incident in my life is really hard to talk about. I've never spoken of this to anyone before, except for those close to me. Even a good portion of the bros. don't know. Well, as I said, I'm going to expose it all. It was when I was around sixteen years old. Me, Tito, Stripes, and D-Dog (we always called one another by our street names) were high as fuck. I had the munchies like no tomorrow. Tito, a scrappy jackal who was missing most of his right ear, proposed that we go hit one of those 24-hour convenience stores.

>Tito and I. . .we had a rather complex relationship. It wasn't like we were boyfriends or anything, but I looked up to him. He was a few years older than me, but I looked up to him like an older brother. Since the death of my family, I never really had someone to look up to, or protect. Tito made me feel like I had a purpose. He was the one that befriended me; the one that introduced me to my pack. Hell, every once in a while when we got drunk enough, we did it in the back of his car. I even let him fuck me bareback on occasion. Later on, when we sobered up, he told me not to tell a damn soul otherwise he'd cut my balls off. I think he hated to admit he liked it. And ever since I got my cherry popped, I kinda enjoyed having something inside me. It made me feel, I dunno, completed somehow.

>So it was the four of us, all dressed in black and baggy clothes. Stripes, a drug addict tiger who always had a nervous twitch to him, scanned the stores for customers while D-Dog, a thick set malamute, went to the cashier and asked him questions. Simple questions to divert his attention to the other guys walking the store. Tito and I walked up and down the aisle, grabbing what we could and stuffing it into our pants. It happened so fast I really couldn't register what transpired. All I remember is the cashier, a panther, shouted something at us. He reached under the counter for something. Tito grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me into one of the fixtures. I fell, crashing into the shelves with food and tin cans falling all around me.

>Several shots rang out.

>I watched as a red stain began to blossom from Tito's shirt. He coughed up blood. In his hand was a small 9mm handgun. The panther lay against the counter, dead. A small firearm was still clutched in his hand. Tito fell to his knee and looked over at me with a smile. At least you're safe, amigo. Those were his last words before he collapsed. I watched as his body gave a small twitch before growing still. Stripes ran. D-Dawg went over to me and picked me up by the collar of my shirt before pulling me away. The image of Tito forever burned into my brain. The next day, the cops came to Uncle Max's house. He was entirely confused until he heard the report. When the cops took me away in handcuffs, I could just see the look on his face. His eyes held such betrayal. What was worse. . .was probably the self-loathing I could see in his expression. I think he felt it was all his fault. To be honest, it was only half his fault.

>The cops charged me with theft, running from the scene of the crime, accessory to murder, manslaughter. . .and a bunch of other shit. However, I got off with a minor misdemeanor. Mainly because I was only sixteen at the time, and Uncle Max had some of the best fuckin' lawyers this side of the coastline. Stripes got ten years with a chance for parole and was sent to a rehabilitation institute. D-Dawg got off on a lighter sentence for acceptable behavior. So for six months I went to a juvenile detention center. It wasn't so bad. I kept to myself and others left me alone. By the time I got out, I was pretty much done with the street life. Uncle Max came by to pick me up. Boy, was he livid. When we got back to the manor he shouted at me, punched me and shook me. Then he broke down crying.

>I felt horrible. More horrible then seeing Tito die. This man, this Rottweiler who had taken me in out of the compassion of his heart, who had tried his best to raise me, I had let him down. Again, to be very honest, Uncle Max really did not know a thing about taking care of a young canine. He even said so himself. But he wanted to make amends, to try and be there for me. So, he gave me a choice after collecting himself. Either I shape up and become a responsible future adult, or I take to the streets. Cause he wasn't going to have this, not in his household. I chose to be responsible.

>Since then, Max has been more diligent in watching over me. Yet, he was a total slave-driver. He made me go to my lessons; made sure I did chores around the house with the other servant children; if I wanted something I'd have to earn it. If I gave him any lip, he'd slap my ass with his belt. On some days, he would take off from his busy schedule and take me to the Boardwalk for some games and ice cream. He began to act more like a guardian now than before. To this day, I realize we both made mistakes, and we both paid for them. Yet, I still could not see him as a father figure, not like I do today. Then there was also my anger issues.

>Max signed me up for wrestling classes, thinking I needed a hobby. Probably one of the best choices he ever made for me, too. This is where I got my knack for wrestling. Having a lot of built up teenage angst makes for a good fodder for aggression on the mat. I finally found my outlet. As it turns out, I had quite the knack for it actually. The mentors were so impressed with my style that they suggested I make for the junior tournaments. Imagine that, me, a junior wrestling champion. Looking back, I chuckled at the notion. Being a street dog I really didn't think the world of it, no aspiring ideals for my future, but Max actually encouraged me to do so. He said I wouldn't know unless I didn't try. He kept pushing me and pushing me until I finally gave in. Part of me was actually wondering if I could achieve something like this, while the other part just agreed in order to shut the fat Rottie up for a change.

>I ended up losing my first match, but my mentors and Max told me not to give up. They kept pushing me to do my best and excel until after a couple more months I won first place at a local tournament. I felt so proud of myself. Not only that, but I felt like I could actually do something right in the world. Thus began my career as a junior wrestler. Max enrolled me into a public high school, where Nathan and I crossed paths once more. He was pretty wary of me at first, but when he saw the change in me, we became fast bros once again. I enlisted myself into the wrestling team later that year. It was one hell of a semester. Between studying, doing my best in the wrestling league, and breaking my old street habits, life was pretty good.

>It wasn't until my graduating year that Uncle Max asked me what I plan to do with my life. To be perfectly honest, I really didn't know. He told me that was all right. He did, however, mention I should probably start looking for a job. Even though the Rottweiler was filthy, stinking rich, I wasn't going to be seeing a penny of it until Max felt that I've earned a fair share in his stocks. Yeah, I should have seen that coming. Can you even blame Max with how I acted growing up? So I put out a few job applications. The only problem was the section about 'have you ever been convicted or arrested for a felony'. That was like a huge fuck my life moment. Application after application got denied just because of that incident. I began to regret that choice in my life. Even to this day I regret it.

>However, one day, while I was busy filling out another job application online (very lethargic mind you), the phone rang. It was for me. The guy on the other line was a fellow named Bruce. He was the manager of one of those whole food sale grocery stores called Valley Gardens. We got to talking and he asked me if I was still interested in a job. Holy fuck I could barely contain my excitement! I finally got a call back! Uncle Max gave me the cheesy thumbs up when I told him. Could he be anymore Dad? Anyway, I had an interview later on that week. Max and I went over some interview questions that Bruce might ask me. We also bought some new clothes for me, something business casual. To be honest, I hated those stuffy, snobby type of clothes. They just didn't fit me. But I had to do it. This was my first job ever so I had to play the part.

>The day of the interview I was nervous as all fuck. Max drove me to the location and gave me another goofy thumbs up. He said he'd be waiting for me in the car, listening to his jams. I rolled my eyes. I swear he does this on purpose. When I first met Bruce, the guy was utterly intimidating. He was a behemoth of fat and muscle. He looked bearish, but there was something that didn't seem quite right about him. Later I learned he was a pokéman. They're a sort of quasi-species that populate like 15% of the world of Aureas. As it turns out, Bruce was a Snorlax species. He took one look at me through those heavy-lidded eyes and said I was hired. No questions, no conversation. Just a simple "you're hired."

>I was utterly flabbergasted.

>When I found my voice again, I asked him why he had decided to choose me. Didn't he want to know more about me; my skills, what I would bring to the company? Bruce just waved his huge claw in the air and told me that it was too much work. And if I didn't exceed his expectations he'd just fire me on the spot. Such a carefree attitude this fat bastard had. But hey, I wasn't going to complain. I had a job now! And it paid reasonably well! My life was slowly coming together from a shattered puphood. Uncle Max took me out to my favorite restaurant to celebrate. Imagine his surprise when I told him I never had a favorite restaurant to go to. Instead, we ordered take out.

>The years went by. I continued to work at _Valley Gardens Grocery Store_while doing wrestling bouts on the weekends. It was a productive lifestyle. However, as I neared my twenty-first birthday, Uncle Max came to me with a sudden concern. "What do you plan to do with the rest of your life, pup?" It was a very simple question, one that he did not mean to sound insulting. Granted, I found it highly insulting. We got into a slight tiff, but it quickly died down when he sat on me and pinned me down. And no, nothing sexual happened between us. Nothing really sexual happened between me and Max ever until recent circumstances. After calming down, he asked me again, this time choosing his words carefully. He was only worried that I was going to be stuck at the grocery store all my life making minimum wage when I had such potential.

>This just came out of nowhere. First of all, I had no idea what potential Max saw in me. Second, what was wrong with working at the grocery store all my life? Yeah, thinking back on it, that was an incredibly stupid remark. But at the time, I thought things were set in my life. I was wrong. One day, Bruce came to me and asked if I was going to stay with the company. I told him I liked it, and that I hoped to move on up in the ranks. He asked me if I had anything other than my high school education, to which I replied with a no. He sighed, then explained if I wanted to go higher with the company, I had to do more than finish high school.

>What I found ironic was Bruce never finished college either. He got to where he is with hard work and diligence. . .which is REALLY ironic since I see him napping and snacking all the damn time. I'm pretty sure he had to sleep with someone to get to where he is today, but I ain't asking. Yet, that was ages ago, as Bruce stated. In this day and age, you had to have a college degree in order to climb the corporate ladder. What Uncle Max had discussed with me the previous night came rushing back to me. If I wanted to get anywhere in life, truly anywhere, I'd have to attend a college.

>And so, I began to put out college applications. I must've put out a dozen of these fuckin' things, but not one of them took the bait, or bite for that matter. The only thing I had going for me was a part-time job at a small grocery store chain, a scholarship from wrestling, and a 3.2 GPA on my high-school diploma. Not the shining star of Port Providence, but it certainly wasn't terrible. Of course, I'm pretty sure my records shown what a trouble-maker I was in the past. Yeah, I knew that'd come to bite me hard on the ass later. It sucked. I must've applied over the course of a year before something finally hooked.

>I think. . .that's where I began this blog.

>Yeah, it was.

>Wow, I really went off topic this time. Yet, as I stated before in the beginning, this is a chronicle of how D.O.G became what it is, and the lives of all those that reside within it, myself included. So I guess you got a good look into my life from beginning to now. It feels kind of weird putting this all out in the open, but it also feels like a great weight has been lifted from me. I do not think I told anyone about Tito and me, or the fact that my family died victims of war. It's things like this that one doesn't necessarily like to get into. Digs up too many bad memories and triggers past wounds that never fully healed. However, it just shows I trust and love you bros. to share these important things in my life with you all.

>Now, with that out of the way, let's get back to the main focus.

>It was around ten o' clock in the morning. It was a Saturday, so I had the day off from work. Not only that, but my wrestling team wasn't meeting up this day either for practice. We'd just come back from another championship round (we won of course), so the coach gave us the weekend off since we did so well. I was enjoying my time off, relaxing and sleeping in. Of course, Max's voice broke me from my dream state. It was such a nice dream too. I was plowing some nice pussy. And for those of you that don't believe me, I am bisexual, just with a really strong male preference!

>I awoke to my Uncle Max calling me down for breakfast, and telling me that I got something in the mail. Just hearing that Rottweiler shouting was enough to make my morning wood fall down like a lumberjack shouting timber. So yeah, there I was, twenty-two years old. Young and vibrant with a bit of muscle on me. I didn't have my goatee grown in yet, and my hair wasn't long enough to style it into my signature fohawk. Even my chest was devoid of tattoos. Looking back I had to laugh at myself. I looked more like a Doberman than a Great Dane. Luckily, that's all changed.

>Getting on my morning shirt and trousers, I made my way down the stairs to the breakfast nook area. Max was already there, sipping on his second cup of coffee while reading the newspaper. He looked up from the articles at me; his reading glasses sliding down his nose. He wore his usual plum-colored robe with the pinstriped pajama bottoms and slippers on his feet. He grumbled a good morning to me. The two of us weren't really the type to be cheery when the sun came up. It'd be a while before any of us were in a good mood.

>I helped myself to some French toast and the last bit of veggie omelet made by Max's personal chef. Max passed me a glass of orange juice, grunting as he took another sip of his coffee. He mentioned something about how the stocks were down. The Rottie always got in a sour mood if the stocks were down. It was a good indication to watch my words and not start an argument. As I poured the syrup over the French toast, I asked Uncle Max where the mail was. He nudged his tan snout over towards the end table. There was a stack of envelopes. Most of it was junk mail and coupons, but there was a vanilla parcel with a blue owl wearing a pair of round spectacles stamped on the front. It was from Winchester Heights University. I nearly choked on a piece of my breakfast.

>Tearing the envelope open, I began to read the letter. After getting numerous rejection letters from most of the colleges around Port Providence, Winchester Heights was the first one to accept me and my wrestling scholarship! I howled in glee. Max told me to keep it down as the coffee hadn't kicked in yet, but I could tell that he was smiling behind the paper. It was hard to miss when his tail wagged, because his entire body sort of does this wiggle thing. However, this also meant that I was going to have to go and attend the orientation.

>Man, I was so excited I didn't even finish my breakfast. I'd incur the wrath of the chef later on, but that didn't matter. I called my best bro, Nathan Lee Colton, to tell him the grand news. Imagine my excitement when he also told me he was accepted to W.H.U! The two of us began to plan out what we were going to do. Unfortunately, Nate's orientation and mine were on separate dates, so we couldn't hang out together during it. Still, we'd made plans to meet up afterwards and possibly discuss our possible futures as college guys. It was really exciting. But, again, that'd come later. Suddenly, Uncle Max's voice shouted from downstairs. I told Nathan I'd chat with him later.

>Going back down to the breakfast nook, Max was folding the newspaper and asking me what I had planned for the day. Well, since I just got my acceptance letter, I was thinking about celebrating by going out to the Boardwalk. The old Rottie shook his head. He walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. I could feel the warmth of his palm. He stared at me for a moment before smiling. "We have to go college shopping for you, boy. Can't have you wearing some rags from your high school days, now can we." To be perfectly honest, I felt insulted. Even if Uncle Max was right about it.

>The two of us spent the rest of the day in the uptown region of Port Providence. Max was very pleased with himself as he got me to try on new clothes and the like. I think deep down he was also proud of me for not giving up, for actually pushing myself to the limit to obtain what I wanted. And, to be honest too, if it wasn't for Max, I probably would be out on the streets with the other wild dogs of Port Providence. So, Max, if you are reading this, thank you for everything, and for putting up with me. I love you.

>All right, back to the main focus.

>About a week later, I drove to the University. I was wearing my new clothes, a designer berry red top with a velvet graphic of the fleur du lis on the front and a pair of patchwork jeans and new canvas tops. I was such a show off back in the day. . .still am, in fact! But yeah, Winchester Heights University stood before me. It was massive, the entire campus spread out like a city all its own. There were so many people of varying species that it felt almost overwhelming. Pulling out my cell phone, I text Nathan that I made it, and that I was heading out to orientation and that I'd see him in an hour or two.

>Just as I was putting my phone away, I happened to look across the street for a moment. There, sitting all by its lonesome just barely off the campus borderline, was a decrepit boarding house. It was an ugly piece of shit. It was a dark building with rotting wooden supports and boarded up windows. There was a few holes in the roof and it looked like the eastern wing had collapsed on itself. The front lawn was choked with weeds to the point you could barely see the For Sale sign. Trash littered the front, and a gnarled tree stump lay off to the side, tearing up a good chuck of earth with its roots.

>My first thoughts were, "what a fucking eyesore". . .but little did I know that in a couple months that the 'fucking eyesore' would become the home of the D.O.G Fraternity. But that is going to be another entry for another time! For now I hope all of you enjoy this very first Chronicles of D.O.G. There will be more later on hopefully this month, as long as this heat doesn't kill me. Til next time, bros. and gal pals! Take care and stay awesome. #signingoff

Duke Rocheister & company © me, duh