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Brian awoke into a scene of startling intensity, featuring deafening noise, blinding lights, a (what felt like) rock-hard floor, and a tightened feeling around his neck. As far as he remembered, one second he was alone at home with Stewie, drinking water like he normally did, and the next... well, he woke up here, wherever "here" was.

After a few seconds, he was able to make out what that blaring sound was: it was Stewie speaking through a blowhorn.

"OH, BRIE-BRIE, IT'S TIME TO WAKE UP!!!!" "TIME TO WAKE UP!!!" "TIME TO WAKE UP!!!" It was just "time to wake up" over and over again, in a volume so loud that it seemed to be cracking through his skull, giving him no way to think even over his almost overwhelming grogginess.

The dog moaned, and subsequently rolled over and got to his feet. "I'm awake! I'm awake already! Can you please turn that damned thing off?!" He squinted to see past the glare of the light, covering his ears to allay his hurting ears of some of the noise.

The lights didn't go off, but the blowhorn did. "Oh, swearing already, Brian? I would haee thought better of you!" Stewie's silhouette appeared in front of the lights, but Brian still couldn't see through them: he just saw Stewie's body, practically bald head and babyish style of walking included, swathed in shadow in contrast with the ungodly bright lights in front of him.

Stewie was a full adult, 18 years old, but had a fetish that not a lot of people knew about: he liked to pretend he was a baby. He was in a red onesie, and was about 5'8", but fairly thin at 160lb. Brian was a dog, and as such paid no attention to clothing, so he gave no fucks about Stewie's bizarre appearance.

"Cut the crap, Stewie. What the fuck is this? What the _hell_did you do to me to get me here?"

Stewie was fully in sight of Brian as he walked out of the light with a condescending smirk darkening his face. "Why, dear doggie, it doesn't matter where we are or how you got here: what matters is, you are my bitch, and no one can do anything about it."

Brian, angry that he had been drugged and abducted to god-only-knows-where, decided to do the adult thing and leave; however, as he prepared to storm past Stewie to where there must be a door, he felt himself tugged backward because of that damned Newton's third law, his throat tightening and constricting, and then finally relaxing as he fell backwards onto the hard wooden floor. As he did this, Stewie calmly walked past him and untied a long red leash from a pole on the wall that Brian hadn't noticed in his groggy, and then angry mental state.

He walked up to Brian, gave a little "teeheehee" giggle, and burped loudly in his face. "Ugh! What the fuck do you think you'-"

The dog was interrupted as he was shoved onto the floor again, his back hitting the hard wood with a crunch_that came from the wood and not the dog; he looked up to see Stewie standing over him once more, with a broad grin on his face. "Naughty naughty! You're not going to be saying that nastiness in _here. I'm the one with all of the control; you're just a puppy. Now..."

Stewie turned around, his rear end facing Brian, and yanked the leash backwards with all of his might. It constricted the dog's neck and pulled him forward in one motion, sudden and unexpected. He lurched forward against his will, crashing onto the ground right in front of his "friend's" ass, unable to breathe and clawing desperately at the tightened collar. He was so desperate to breathe than he didn't even realize that his muzzle was about an inch from Stewie's butt, and when he finally let the leash go slack, Brian responded with an urgent gasp of air... only to get a face-full of ass. It was much larger than you'd expect from a typical person - even bigger than Brian's head! - and took up the majority of his horizon due to its proximity and size.

The second the dog started gasping, Stewie began releasing a low, bubbling fart that seemed to fill the air around the unusual companions, and Brian's first post-yank breath was filled with all of the normal stinks you'd find in a diaper - only without all the extra baggage that normally comes with it.

"I thought I'd give you an... introduction!" He said with another delighted giggle as Brian gagged on his gas. "Now I think you'd better start _your_part of all this by giving me a nice massage. What d'you think?" He wiggled his rear, emphasizing exactly where he wanted that massage to be; the dog wasn't happy about this, but saved his objections and groaning for later: he had an inkling that it was all going to get worse from here.

But he had no choice, so he did it anyway, putting his hands on Stewie's red onesie-clad rear and giving him a thorough massage; he discovered that, unexpectedly, the human was wearing a diaper under that onesie! That meant that a diaper - crinkly, unbreathable and rather insulated from outside air - had been between Brian's face and Stewie's farts, and they were still practically unbearable. He didn't want to think about what it'd have been like if the human_took it off._

For Stewie, it wasn't about getting a nice feeling out of it, because Brian certainly wasn't an expert masseuse: it was about emphasizing Brian's submissive role in their fun time together, and making sure that he knew that his place in all of this was right in front of Stewie's rear end. Brian didn't exactly know what was going on, but he didn't care, either: he was just going to do as he was told and get Stewie back for this as soon as possible.

"Okay, it's been a few minutes: you can stop now. Actually..." The onesie-wearing human obviously had an idea forming. "Why don't you lie down? Face up, of course. Come on!" He didn't have to say "remember: you're my bitch tonight": it was implied.

Brian reluctantly complied, gulping: one second, Stewie was standing over him, and the next second the human plopped himself right down on his chest. His diaper crinkled noisily as he backed up on top of Brian's chest, right in front of his face, but not quite on top of it. The dog could get up if he wanted to - babies don't weighthat much, even ones with prodigious butts - but he was afraid of what Stewie would do if he got up; so he stayed where he was.

Stewie let loose a single fart, a small little pfrt, and nothing seemed to smell at all. Stewie frowned and wondered what was going on... and then he remembered that he was wearing a diaper. He was going to have to get much more up close and personal if Brian was going to smell _all_of his farts from now on. Naturally, he backed up his large booty right on top of Brian's face, making sure to smoosh Brian right into his diaper and between those nice cheeks of his, burying the dog's head under his firm ass. His butt touched the ground, and while Brian was clutching at the human on top of him and trying to shove him off, he wasn't really getting anywhere: Stewie had a leash and was unafraid to use it.

Almost immediately, Stewie continued his gas torture, starting off his new position with a fart that was silent and deadly - and long. He sat there, relaxedly farting with the occasional relieved moan, leaving Brian to lie under him and huff his nasty gas. He could feel it vibrating against his nose through the diaper, and god damn did it_smell._ It built up the longer it went, and he didn't need his ears to tell how much Stewie was blasting out of his ass - he just needed his nose, which was convenient, because that was the part of his body closest to the offending posterior in the first place.

The dog would have wrinkled his nose, but unfortunately dogs have muzzles and don't have the ability to do so: he sufficed instead by pretending he could wrinkle his nose. Because Stewie's farts stank. They stank like vegetables and poop, and made him gag from the sheer force of it: it was like a cloud that built and built and built, until Brian felt like he was surrounded by farts. He felt like, if you could see them, you'd see a big cloud or bubble of them just filling the air around him. He started to sweat: it was getting hot under here. It was either from the heat of Stewie's small body or the heat of his gas, and Brian didn't really care about which.

While Brian was suffering and huffing his farts, Stewie was sitting there in his big fart cloud like a king on a throne, grinning from ear to ear: after all, everyone loves their own brand. He imagined himself clad in kingly purple robes, with a golden scepter and a bejeweled crown, and a faithful servant to huff his nasty toots.

Suddenly, Stewie's stomach gurgled and he started to feel queasy: he _really_had to go. And what better position was there, then on top of your little doggy who doubled as a fart slave? He did what came naturally to him: closed his eyes, curled his fists, and started giggling loudly and pooping at the exact same time.

Brian laid there under Stewie's crinkly butt, horrified at what had suddenly been unleashed upon him in a smelly brown torrent. He lamented at his poor nose, and desperately tried to shove the human off of him, but suddenly the leash tightened around his neck and he lost his strength along with a good amount of his breath. The shit proceeded to flood the diaper in an exceedingly noisy fashion, with splirts!_and _flrpthsssssss!_and _blaaaarts!, over and over and over again, making Brian feel like he was going to veritably drown in gerber-flavored "baby" poo.

It flooded his senses more than he could have thought possible: it _squished_around him, making room for more of the splurting shit as it was added to the diaper, filling it in addition to Stewie's enormous ass, and completely covered his nose to the point where it genuinely felt like his nostrils were being filled with the human's intestinal sculpturing. To make things even worse, the diaper had started to turn brown on the outside and leak a little bit, and had begun to stain Stewie's onesie with deep brown marks.

Finally, Stewie stopped giggle-shitting and got up off of Brian, who was then gasping for clean and trying to wipe poo off his face that, by and large, wasn't even there to begin with. The human took off his onesie, revealing the brown-colored and dripping diaper underneath; it was obviously on the verge of exploding from pressure, but Stewie didn't seem to mind as he used the leash to drag Brian's unwilling body towards his ass, which was no longer crinkly but very, very _squishy_after being saturated with his shit.

"So, fart slave! I have a job for you!" He grinned. "Take off my diaper. I don't have a change, but that isn't going to matter." He tugged on the leash, and Brian was dragged even closer, his face once again almost swallowed by the butt filling his vision. As soon as he wearily lifted his hands and started to undo the diaper straps, the straps broke_from the weight of Stewie's diaper and fell, with a crash and a squish noise, to the floor, splattering specks of poop all over Brian's face and Stewie's backside. The stink of gerber shit filled the room, and Stewie wrinkled his own nose at the stench and allowed himself to giggle a little bit more at the idea that Brian had been subjected to _this.

"Now," he said, I want you to eat it."

Brian looked up, but before he could protect there was yet another tug on the leash, and he crashed into the ground, right into the big, squishy diaper that lay in front of him, burying his face in poo. Stewie forced him under for about thirty seconds, ignoring his desperate wriggling to get his head the hell out of the human's shit, and then finally let him up, gasping for clean air with his nose about a millimeter above the stinky diaper.

"You're going to eat it, or you're going to drown in shit!" This time, Stewie didn't giggle: he cackled, like some kind of evil megalomaniac in a movie.

In response, Brian scooped up a small amount of shit in his hand, but Stewie protested, saying just: "More! Fill your goddamn hand and stuff it all into your mouth!" So he did: as he lifted his hand, shit fell right back into the pile; he shoved it into his mouth and chewed, gagging enormously and almost puking everywhere. There must have been something in that drug to stop him from doing that, or he'd certainly have vomited all over the place as soon as the smelly, rancid shit had passed his lips.

As he lifted up another handful, it occurred to him how ridiculous this was. He almost couldn't believe he was doing this! And that Stewie- a stick of a human being! - had managed to make him literally eat shit. The taste, the smell, and the texture of the shit were out of this world, and it was by far the most awful stuff he'd ever placed in his mouth. He wasn't like other dogs! He was cultured. He didn't eat shit! Until now. Stewie had practically made him become feral.

Nonetheless, he placed another handful of shit into his mouth; and then another, and another. It was horrifying, and disgusting, and degrading, but he did it anyway, because he didn't have a choice - and all because of the human, and the drugs, and the leash. Finally, it was all over, and he was able to just lay his head on the floor and pretend that he was somewhere else and didn't have the ugly taste of poop in his mouth.

Stewie, however, had other plans. All of this had taken only about thirty minutes, and his stomach was gurgling uproariously again: so he decided he was going to use his slave in a more... direct way, this time. After all, it wasn't like he had another diaper to change into.

"Open your mouth, mutt. It's time you had a better, more direct taste of my wonderful waste." He tugged on the leash, and Brian opened his mouth, not wanting to have his air cut off again. He thought that perhaps he had become adjusted to the taste of shit, and that this time, it might not be so bad, and this let him proverbially stomach the idea and allowed him to open his mouth wide in obedience to his master (though he still cringed at the term.).

His hopes proceeded to be utterly dashed as Stewie blasted a nasty-smelling fart that blew back Brian's fur and made him gag even without shit in his mouth. No, this was going to be _worse_than the diaper-sitting, and worse than the other shit-eating, and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all.

The human's anus dialated, and an enormous log began to exit his anus; it was as wide around as Brian's fist, and _plopped_down into his mouth, filling it and then some; part of the huge log managed to land on his chest, of all things, and he had to hurriedly stuff it into his mout and chew and swallow, or he knew he would be veritably buried in shit. He was still gagging, and trying not to puke, and thinking about ways to escape, but it ultimately came to nothing, because he was still eating shit.

After a few of these logs, Brian's mouth had been overfilled so much with these huge logs that everything around his nose had been buried in shit, and he desperately shoveled poop into his mouth, trying to ignore how bad it smelled and how nasty it was.

Stewie looked back and giggled. "My, little bitch, you're so dirty! Maybe I should help." And with that, he sat his huge, bare butt on top of Brian's face again, his asshole hovering directly over Brian's face and his cheeks completely covering and smooshing the dog's head, and let go with an enormous explosion of diarrheaic poop that the dog had no choice but to swallow.

After that, the human got up and pulled Brian up to his feet with a tug on the leash. "Now you're going to do your master another favor, and I'll let you go to sleep and put this all... behind_you." He giggled at the pun. "I want you to clean my butthole." In his mind, Stewie giggled again: heh, _somebody said butthole!

Brian thought he was almost beyond gagging, but as soon as he took his face back down to the human's butt level and was ready to insert his tongue into that awful hole, he copped - and swallowed - a massive fart in the face. Mouth-farts are the absolute worst ones, and he gagged, but swallowed his pride and stuck his tongue right in there anyway.

It was immediately apparent that no one had _ever_given this area of Stewie's body a wash, or used paper towels on him, or done anything at all with it, really. It was thick and grotesque and smelled and tasted so strongly of shit that it was like eating poo all over again.

Suddenly, though, Brian collapsed to the ground and fell asleep. His tongue was hanging out and was, like the rest of his upper body, absolutely covered in shit, and somehow he'd managed to fall into a deep sleep right onto the hard floor.

"Hey! Bitch! You're not finished!" Stewie turned around, ready to punish his slave, until he remembered the special time-release knockout pills he'd given to Brian before he'd woken up earlier.

"Oh, well. I'm sure we can continue this another time..." He giggled at the shit-covered dog and went to prepare himself for the next round of wonderful playtime with Brian.