Hey readers! Long time, no see, yeah?

First off, I'm going to take a moment to share some exciting news with you all: Doggie Style! has officially surpassed 100 reviews! I'm so happy that people seem to be enjoying my fic, and I just wanted to thank all of you for the nice words you've said.

Alright, you guys didn't subscribe to read my gushiness; you subscribed to read some hardcore pr0n! Hehe. So without further ado, I present the next exciting installment of Doggie Style!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but a used laptop, a pirated copy of Microsoft Word, and a sick mind that's perverted enough to think a baby and a dog would make a cute couple.

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9.) Thanksgiving, a.k.a. More Revelations

"Will you stop fidgeting, Dog?" Stewie hissed, elbowing Brian in the ribs as they pulled up to Spooner Street.

"I'm sorry," Brian muttered, trying to control his leg from bouncing rapidly as it had been doing for the last two hours. "I'm just really nervous."

"About what?" Stewie asked absently, cutting off an old woman in a hatchback as he rounded the corner.

"You know about what," Brian spat, violently twiddling his thumbs together.

"Dog, I'm warning you, if you don't stop that I will ram your side of the car into a street lamp," Stewie growled. "And what do you have to be nervous about? You should be thrilled. Lois and the Fat Man will shit a rainbow when they see you."

"Yeah, or they'll call the cops to pick up this strange maniac claiming to be their dead pet dog," Brian said sardonically. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course I am, Brian," Stewie said. "We'll convince them to believe you. Or if we don't, I have plenty of money to bail you out of jail."

"Thanks, douche," Brian scowled, looking out the window. That's when he saw it: the yellow house with the red door. The yellow paint was faded with age, and the roof was missing a shingle or two.

"Hey now, don't take this out on me," Stewie scolded, pulling up in front of his childhood home and parking is Benz. "I'll remind you that this was your idea."

"Yeah, yeah," Brian conceded, unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing out of the passenger seat. He shook out the wrinkles in his black pinstripe slacks and buttoned up the front of his matching vest. "Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea?"

"Because," Stewie sighed, tugging down his crimson and mustard argyle sweater-vest and walking around the car to join Brian, "they're your family, and you miss them, and we're already here. Plus, they're the only people on earth who will believe your story."

"Do you really think they'll believe me?" Brian asked as they walked to the red door, now warped and faded to a sort of orange hue.

"Of course they will," Stewie said matter-of-factly. "They've seen much weirder shit than a talking dog being reincarnated into a hot young body." Stewie smirked as Brian had the decency to blush. "Peter has Death's cell phone number on speed dial, you'll remember."

"Right," Brian sighed, running his fingers nervously through his hair. Stewie slapped his hand away and licked his palm to smooth down Brian's mussed hair. He then reached for the collar of the Dog's crisp white button-down shirt to tighten his red tie. It was Brian's turn to slap Stewie's hands away this time.

"Will you stop that, Mother?" Brian snapped as Stewie smirked up at him.

"Well I wouldn't have to if you would stop ruining all the hard work I put into making you look presentable tonight," Stewie quipped.

"Yeah, yeah," Brian growled. "Just ring the damn doorbell already."

"You sure you're ready?" Stewie asked teasingly. "You sure you don't want to just stand out here for another hour, fretting about whether or not your long-lost family will recognize you?"

"Don't test me," Brian warned, barely concealing the small smile Stewie's antics elicited.

"Alright, alright," Stewie conceded, holding his hands up in surrender. "Jesus, Dog, you're no fun when you're nervous."

"You gonna ring the bell, or what?" Brian asked, gesturing at the red door in front of them.

"Why, I'd be happy to," Stewie said, raising his pointer finger in a grand motion and reaching it toward the doorbell.

Of course, he did not reach the bell before the door was suddenly swung unceremoniously open by none other than Lois Pewterschmidt-Griffin. Brian froze in shock at the sight of the object of his wildest fantasies, now graying with age. Her once-red hair was now streaked with silver, and her once-perky bosoms sagged slightly. Her face was littered with age lines and crow's feet.

And she was beautiful. Brian felt his pulse quicken at the sight of his best friend's wife, remembering the passionate fantasies that haunted him in his previous life. He then realized that he had not had such thoughts since he awoke naked in that alleyway. As a matter of fact, his fantasies seemed to be much more fixated on another certain redhead as of late. Blushing, Brian recalled his many filthy dreams featuring Stewie—of them in the shower, of them in Stewie's office, of them in the backseat of Stewie's Benz…. The list of what his traitorous brain (and cock) wanted to do to Stewie went on and on.

He then suddenly felt immensely guilty for his thoughts, as though he were…cheating or something. But on whom? Brian didn't want to think about it.

"Stewie, my baby!" Lois exclaimed, lunching forward and grabbing her reluctant son around the neck for a hug. Stewie grumbled his greeting, not pushing his mother away but refusing to return the embrace. After several seconds, Lois finally relented her grasp and turned to face Brian.

"Stewie, you didn't tell me you were bringing a friend," she said, smiling brilliantly at the Dog. "And who might this handsome young man be?"

"Oh come on, Lois, don't tell me you don't remember one of our oldest friends," Stewie said with a smirk. Lois furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, searching Brian's face for some hint of familiarity.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't—"

"it's me, Lois," Brian said, taking a careful step forward. Lois snapped her head to look at him, astonished.

"How do you know my—"

"Well, it appears Mother's memory is failing her," Stewie chuckled. "Care to refresh it?"

"It's me," he repeated. "It's Brian."

Neither Brian nor Stewie could lunge fast enough to catch Lois as she fainted.

BREAK

Unsurprisingly, Peter took the bizarre news much better than his wife. He welcomed Brian and Stewie with a clap on their backs, then led them to the dining room, where they were now feasting on turkey, stuffing, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, and every other Thanksgiving staple imaginable.

Brian looked around the table at his family, taking in the sight of them. Chris was still husky like his father, but with much better style than he had in his adolescence: he wore a crisp white button down with a royal blue sweater-vest, along with crisp khaki slacks. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal two impressive tattoo-covered forearms. He still had his gold hoop earrings, along with a few more piercings along his lobes; his blonde hair, which was no longer stuffed beneath a baseball cap, was cut and styled in a long, shaggy-chic style. On his feet he wore a pair of faded black Chuck Taylors.

He then moved on to Meg, who had blossomed with age. She had ditched the Harry Potter glasses for contacts, which revealed her surprisingly pretty brown eyes. She had also grown her now-silky-smooth brown hair out so that it reached down to her mid-back. She wore a flattering pink halter-top dress with a lacey off-white sweater that revealed her figure nicely. Her acne had cleared up, and she was actually wearing makeup. She was almost as beautiful as her mother was at that age—almost.

"Holy crap, Brian, I never thought I'd see the likes of you again," Peter said through his mouthful of turkey and cranberry sauce. Brian turned his attentions to appraise his old friend, whose appearance had remarkably not changed one bit (save for the sparse grey patch of hair and the occasional laugh line on his face). He donned his usual white button-down and green slacks, and he hadn't lost—or gained, for that matter—a single pound. "What with you goin' off and disappearing on us."

"Oh, right," Brian said sheepishly, staring down at his half-demolished mountain of food. Even though he had not been there for it, the thought that he had run away and hurt his family filled him with no end of guilt and remorse.

"You know, Dog, I got to thinking about that," Stewie said. "Maybe the reason you disappeared isn't because you ran away, but because you were kidnapped, transformed, and magicked here to the future."

"Oh, that makes a lot of sense, Stewie!" Lois said excitedly. "Brian, what's the last thing you remember before you became human?"

"Well," Brian muttered, racking his brain for some fleeting memory, "I remember I was watching Stewie that day…. We had been fighting about something—"

"Oh, that could have been any day," Stewie huffed in slightly exaggerated exasperation.

"Yeah, but this one was different," Brian said. "You said I—well, we had a really big fight."

"What did I say?" Stewie demanded. "Out with it, Dog."

"Well," Brian sighed hesitantly, "you said I wasn't really a part of the family because I was 'just a dog,' and as soon as I died, you would all just get a new dog and name him Brian."

"Oh," Stewie said after an awkward pause. "Well, kids say the darndest things—"

"Don't worry about it," Brian interjected. "I kind of egged you on. I was trashing all of your research and experiments. I called it all 'pseudo—'"

"'Pseudo-scientific bullshit!'" Stewie finished with a grin and a small laugh.

"Yeah, and that you'd be better off designing elaborate Nerf guns."

"Well, I guess I showed you, didn't I?" Stewie said with a smirk, gesturing at himself.

Brian smirked back. "I guess I showed you too," he said, gesturing at his new body in the same way that Stewie had.

"You certainly did, Brian," Stewie agreed, his smirk softening to a compassionate smile, which Brian returned two-fold. He felt a warmth spread through his chest—that damn warmth that spread through his chest every damn time the redhead smiled at him like that. He felt his ears begin to heat up, and finally broke their long gaze.

"Anyway," he continued, clearing his suddenly dry throat, "after that, I went to the Drunken Clam to blow off some steam. I ran into Death there, and we got to drinking, when—" Suddenly, he stopped mid-sentence, slowly turning his eyes up to face Stewie, who sported the same expression of open-mouthed shock.

"Oh my god," they both said in unison.

"What, what is it?" Meg asked fervently.

"Dog, tell me you didn't," Stewie pleaded.

"Didn't what?" Chris asked urgently.

"Well—" Brian began sheepishly.

"Will someone just tell us what the hell you guys are talking about?" Lois near-shouted.

"That idiot—" Stewie jabbed a finger at Brian across the table— "told Death about our fight, and Death played a cosmic joke on him!"

"Huh?" Chris said dumbly.

"Well, I guess I sorta told Death in my drunken stupor that I wished I were human—"

"And Death went and reincarnated him as a human!" Stewie finished with a screech.

"Wait, can Death even do that?" Lois asked incredulously.

"Well, he did send me back to the eighties to re-experience all that wild sex I had in my youth that one time," Peter said.

"What?" Lois asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly.

"Look, there's only one way we could possibly know," Brian said matter-of-factly. "We'll have to call up Death and ask him."

"Well, okay," Lois conceded. "But not till after we're finished celebrating Thanksgiving. As a family."

Everyone around the table smiled and nodded in agreement, then went back to devouring their platefuls of food.

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"So tell me, Chris," Brian asked as he served himself a third helping of pecan pie, "do you have anyone special in your life?"

"I don't really have time for any special lady other than my artwork," Chris said flippantly. "I'm working on a collaboration with Grant Morrison right now—"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Brian interjected excitedly. "Grant Morrison as in the writer of Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth?"

"Yes," Chris answered in a deliberately casual tone. "You've heard of him?"

"Of course! I'm really impressed, Chris."

"Thanks, Brian," Chris said with a big, goofy grin, breaking his pretentious act.

"What about you, Meg?"

"Well, I've been dating this guy," she said with a smile, "his name is Dave. He used to work with me at the high school, until he got promoted to principal at a different school. We've been going out for the last five months. I tried to get him to come to Thanksgiving with me, but his family is on a ski trip together."

"Oh yeah, and you really believed that shit?" Stewie said meanly. "That's just code for, 'I'm a pussy who's too afraid of commitment to meet your family."

"Not that it's any of your business, asswipe," Meg snapped, "but I helped him load his ski equipment into his parents' SUV, right after we had our pre-Thanksgiving celebration."

Brian choked on his pecan pie as he attempted to hold back a burst of laughter. Stewie cut eyes at the shaking Dog, glaring holes into the side of his face.

"What about you, Brian?" Lois asked. "Have you met any beautiful young ladies since you've gotten here?"

"None as beautiful as you," Brian answered automatically. Then he felt it, just like he had before, on the front porch. That intense wave of guilt, like he was being unfaithful to his lover by saying such things. But that, of course, was ridiculous, because he didn't have anyone to cheat on—right?

"Oh, heheh, thank you," Lois said uncomfortably.

"Honestly mother, how could you expect him to be looking for someone? He's been human for, what, two days?"

"A week, actually—" Brian interjected.

"Che, whatever, Dog, you can barely even use your arms and legs properly yet, let alone your—"

"Stewie! What's gotten into you?" Lois exclaimed.

"Nothing, okay?" he snapped, crossing his arms and glaring at the wall. "I just don't think Brian should be thinking about girls right now."

"But I'm not," Brian said simply. Stewie looked up at Brian's sincere face for a moment, before returning to staring daggers at the wall just past his head.

"Well…good," Stewie grumbled lamely, still not done sulking.

"Ehem, well, we should probably work out the sleeping arrangements," Lois finally said after a tense period of silence. "We weren't expecting you, Brian, and Chris has already called claim to the couch, so—"

"Really? What happened to his bedroom?" Brian asked in genuine curiosity.

"We turned it into a storage room," Lois answered sheepishly. "Anyway, you'll have to sleep with Stewie—"

"Wait, what?" Brian exclaimed, unable to repress the panic in his voice.

"You'll be sharing Stewie's old bed with him," Lois repeated, slower this time. "I just figured, since you're living with him, you'd be more comfortable there—"

"Yeah, and you won't exactly fit at the foot of our bed anymore, what with your new body and all," Peter added with a chuckle.

"That's fine with you, isn't it, Dog?" Stewie asked with a sadistic smirk.

"Well, I mean, of course it is, but—"

"Then it's settled," Stewie said, stretching his lithe body out. "We'll share a bed for the night." Brian watched Stewie's every graceful movement with slightly wide eyes. The way his back arched when he stretched. The way his face filled with pleasurable pain as he worked out the kinks in his taut muscles. The way he smirked at Brian like he just knew the sick thoughts running through the Dog's head at that very moment.

'Oh crap…"

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Wellllll, I think this is a nice little break point. The next chapter will go one of two ways. Either I'll write about Brian and Stewie's night sharing a bed, or I'll just skip ahead to the next topic on my list. Hmm, decisions decisions. What do you guys think?

Don't forget to review!