Chapter 5: "I'll Be in the Basement.": The Discovery

Something was up with the dog.

His stepfather seemed different, somehow, a change Stewie dated back through the past few weeks. While there had always been a hint of melancholia hanging about Brian, as he swirled and sipped his martinis and talked about the missed opportunities in his life, that characterization of him had been missing ever since he got together with the red-headed devil woman. His marriage had made him- well, not walk on clouds, but it had seemingly improved his good cheer and optimism greatly. He was a dog full of hope.

But now, he seemed ground down by the wheel of life, like so many canines who hadn't watched out for speeding cars. Stewie eventually realized that what he'd feared had come to pass: Brian was becoming disillusioned with his marriage. He was beginning to doubt his match with Lois.

This was...this was what he, Stewie, had feared, wasn't it? How extraordinary. He'd always known that Brian wedding that harpy was a bad idea, and he'd...he'd wanted to spare the dog's feelings, hadn't he? It wasn't just about not wanting to have to deal with this fractured, fucked up family falling even more to hell as this ill-advised union soured. He'd always wanted Brian to get out before it was too late and avoid greater pain.

Yes, Stewie had confessed to caring about Brian, but it was still a continual source of somewhat sorrowful amazement, as the baby watched that horrible shrew fail to gravitate toward Brian like she had the fat fool she'd been married to previously. As he watched Brian walk around as lovelorn as before. He sincerely felt sympathy for the mutt, he honestly did.

And if there was something else the child felt...something beyond being sorry for Brian that the relationship was crashing and burning…

If, mixed in there, there was a pleasant-feeling emotion, too, it was only satisfaction at having predicted something successfully. Stewie wasn't going to feel too guilty about that, considering. Granted, you didn't have to have 20/20 vision and a high-powered telescope to see this marriage's future coming from a million miles away.

Another thing that started to happen, though, was Brian throwing himself into his stepdoggy role full-force. He might be despairing about his relationship with his wife, and he might come home from the dealership looking like he'd just spent time in Guantánamo, but he'd evidently decided he was going to cover it up as best he could for the kids.

Poor dear.

It might deceive the others, but ole Stewie was smart, and he'd caught wise. Maybe, if he was kinder, he would've let the dog get on with life while playing dumb himself. Once, though, the toddler had been so annoyed by Brian insisting on "supervising" Stewie brushing his teeth (a task that mutt knew full well a baby of superior intellect could handle on his own!), that the boy had burst out with:

"I say, I think it's terribly touching that you haven't abandoned your fatherly duties even though you're not faring well as a husband!"

He'd been in a huff, he hadn't meant to say it, but he didn't know if Brian would believe that. The way the canine had looked at him, the child had been a little afraid his stepdoggy was going to...spank him or something.

...Yes. Afraid. That was the word.

Brian had kept his paws to himself, however. He was a very good doggy. A very good stepdoggy.

He spent all his spare time with the kids. He made sure Chris was on time leaving for and getting home from Herbert's, and, after hearing Lois wonder out loud if her middle child was really ready for high school, even decided to help the thick-headed teen with his education. Well, he bought the dumbed-down, illustrated classics versions of great novels to give to Chris to at least get him interested in reading. And just for fun, he even took Chris fishing, once.

Stewie remembered sitting on the stairs, watching his stepfather and brother leaving, and feeling curiously left out, not that he had any interest in fish, and not that he'd ever admit it to either of them.

Brian even spent time with Meg. Summer for someone as unpopular as her meant a lot of time spent hanging around the house. Brian, noticing this, asked what she'd like to be doing to amuse herself, and after fruitlessly whining about how she'd like to be out with friends, she finally settled on learning a new hobby. She lamented that Lois had never taught her how to cook, and since Brian often found himself making breakfast when Lois couldn't be bothered getting up in the morning and also the occasional dinner (particularly when she got a little drunk way too early on a Saturday night), the dog decided that would be something he and Meg would tackle together.

"Maybe now you'll finally be able to catch a man," taunted Stewie, swinging his legs back and forth, sitting in his highchair and watching them one evening. "You, too, Brian," he added, without really knowing why he did it, only that he should smirk when the mutt turned around to glare at him.

"That's a very pretty apron, stepdoggy," the boy had giggled.

That night, they all sat around the dinner table eating beef tips that were actually pretty decent, and things just sort of gradually devolved. Stewie, looking back, was hard-pressed to remember exactly what had happened. Life under the dog's tenure as "father figure" was definitely less hectic and less filled with wacky shenanigans, but it still came with a mounting number of abnormalities.

It was probably Brian who mentioned that Shakespeare was on Chris's reading list for next year. He and Lois were both drinking, but Lois was the one worse for wear because of it. As if she didn't have enough unflattering qualities.

She'd better watch it before she becomes a wino hag, Stewie had thought.

The wretched woman had mentioned something about a suggestive part of one of The Bard's books, Brian had looked shocked, and Lois had made a dismissive expression at him. Chris had gotten confused and asked if he was going to be assigned "a dirty book to read". Brian had laughed awkwardly and tried to quote Oscar Wilde, stammering out something about there being no bad books. Chris then clarified that he meant books like the kind he once "found in Mom's nightstand, with the ladies with their dresses ripped open and pirates standing behind them."

Lois declared that it was a good thing Chris couldn't get into her room anymore, Brian had said something like, "Don't you mean our room, honey?", and Lois had made some remark about the beef tips that Stewie was given to understand was "vulgar", based on Meg's gasp and the dog's venturing that, "That might have been inappropriate, don't you think?"

In fact, Brian was so upset by it that he left the table. Just thrown down his napkin and announced, "I'll be in the basement!"

Lately, Brian was in the habit of taking himself off to the basement every so often, and Chris finally asked tonight,

"To do what?"

Pausing before he left the room, and looking not at Chris, but at Lois, a strange gaze of blended defiance and sadness, "What do you think?"

He shuffled off, and the children were addressed as a group by their harlot mother. Maybe she had guessed that this had now happened enough times that the kids would really start to wonder what in the hell was going on. Since she never spoke to him as a rational creature and so wouldn't have answered his questions, it had never occurred to Stewie to ask the horrid house frau what Brian did in the basement. That didn't mean he hadn't tried to follow the dog down there; but every time, the baby had found the door locked.

"Brian has just, er, found the...pressures of heading a family don't leave him with enough time to himself," Lois explained now. "I mean, it's not as bad as with a mother, obviously." She laughed, not completely mirthfully, and sipped her wine. "But, you know, he's not used to it, and really, he does still need his…'me time'." The woman seemed to wince slightly. "So, he's asked that we all be understanding when he needs to step away and...play hacky sack, or whatever."

The next day was Friday, and Brian was the one to drop Stewie off at preschool.

"TGIF, eh, Brian?" he joked with the dog in the car, as they made the drive to Stewie's school, where the baby's interminable days became a mite more bearable, if barely less insulting. "Looking forward to the weekend?"

"Well…" Brian drawled, dragging out the word to match the length of a smooth turn. "It's funny you should mention that." He looked over at the child and smiled.

Stewie just had to stare at that smile for a moment. Sometimes Brian looked almost...charming. He liked to have that smile directed at him.

"It is?" Stewie prompted. "What do you have planned?" Could it be some romantic nonsense with Lois? But certainly there had been no big thaw in the private Ice Age the two seemed to be living through. No matter how much Brian may wish for one.

"Actually," the canine began, "I was hoping maybe we could do something. Together."

Dear lord, what was that sensation in his heart? Was he ill? It was like, just for an instant, the beating of his heart sped up and got shaky.

"Together?" the baby parroted back. They used to do things together, but how long had it been since they spent any extended amount of time together? Chris got a fishing trip…

Brian nodded and smiled. "Yeah. I mean, I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been trying to spend time with each of you individually. You, your brother, and sister, that is. Only, well, obviously, I haven't really gotten around to you yet, but I wanted to come up with something really special, in your case."

Stewie felt more flattered than he had a right to. He found himself giggling, quite involuntarily. "Well, Brian, you could've just asked me to think up an idea! Who else can take you on exciting adventures to the edge of the universe but Stewie?" The boy grinned, sweeping an arm dramatically through the air, reaching out his hand as if he could touch those farthest reaches of the universe.

The dog laughed and scratched endearingly behind his neck. "Uh, gee, I wanted to surprise you, but maybe I should've let you pick after all. Now that you've mentioned what we could've been doing, I have a feeling the activity that I chose is going to come across as a disappointment."

The baby shrugged, excited regardless. "Very possibly," he said carelessly. "But let's hear it."

He hadn't noticed how far they progressed in their drive to the school. They were nearly there already. Soon they'd be pulling into the drop off line.

"The Children's Science Museum in Providence!" Brian announced, filling his voice with a kind of gusto to get Stewie hyped, but seemingly also unable to keep a note of humility out of it, as he plainly waited for the suggestion to fall flat.

It wasn't the best idea the child had ever heard, but it wasn't the worst, either. He supposed the dog could've done a better job, but decided he'd put enough effort in, because he'd at least landed in the ballpark of what Stewie would like. Normally, those cretins who lived in the same house as him never even thought of what Stewie would like at all, and the fact that Brian had suddenly made all the difference in the world. The baby felt only approval.

"Sounds like a lark," Stewie responded, as Brian lined up to let him out. "Yes, why not? I look forward to seeing the amateurish experiments and humorous education pablum for weak, juvenile minds. It'll be like a comedy club!"

Brian rolled his eyes but laughed along, reaching over to unbuckle the tyke's car seat. While he was over there, he paused, and Stewie fidgeted and got another alarming, jumpy, tickle-in-the-heart sensation. He knew what was coming.

"You know what's coming," the dog teased, as though reading his mind. Stewie averted his eyes and pursed his lips as if in displeasure. For some reason, it wouldn't do to let on that he enjoyed this.

Kisses from my stepdoggy...

"Here comes the airplane," Brian chuckled, and the infant's annoyance became real. That took being patronized too far, and he turned to tell off the impudent animal.

He almost wound up with a kiss on the lips for his trouble, the canine veering at just the last nanosecond and getting a cheek instead.

"My, that was a close one," stated the baby out loud, his voice shocked into flatness, and thankfully not giving away how rattled he felt at said close call. He could only hope his expression was likewise unconcerned.

Behind them, somebody honked, and Brian clicked his tongue and shot the offending party a look in the rearview mirror. "Jeez, way to teach the kids patience, huh? Keep on being a role model, pal. Have a good day, Stewie."

He barely spared the boy a glance, but perhaps that was for the best. Stewie opened the door, uttering, "And to you, as well," before hopping out and heading down the building, where his teacher was shepherding the arriving students into an orderly group like so many innocent little lambs.

Stewie joined them, despite somehow, inexplicably, feeling even less like an innocent little lamb than he ever had in his life.

That evening, Stewie waited in the living room for Brian to come home. He'd brought down his coloring book and crayons to amuse himself while Lois sat with her feet up in the kitchen, waiting for the pizza. Meg had pitched a hissy fit over not being able to cook dinner, and was pouting upstairs. Chris still hadn't come back from doing chores from Herbert, and someone who lived in this ghastly house might hope that he wasn't currently chained up naked in the friendly neighborhood boy lover's residence with a hood over his head, if it occurred to the ignoramuses that they should hope at all.

Stepdoggy ended up coming home a little later than usual, though he still beat the pizza and Chris. Brian trudged through the door, dragging his briefcase on the floor, looking rather down and out. Even his fedora, askew on his head, managed to look tired.

The dog barely looked at Stewie from beneath his sagging eyelids, just wearily made his way to the couch and hefted himself up onto it with a sigh, dropping his briefcase down near Stewie.

The baby went to say something to the canine, but Brian called out to Lois. He yelled out her name, and the redheaded witch cackled, "What, is the pizza here?"

"Did you order pizza?" asked Brian, and then, getting no response from his wife, he must have determined she couldn't hear him. "Lois?" the canine called louder. "Can you come in here, please?" He laid his head against the back of the couch, rubbed his temples, and groaned.

As soon as Stewie heard the flip-flops smacking along as they moved up and down, the baby rolled his eyes. Lois entered the room, still walking funny, dividers wedged between her toes as they resided in her uncharacteristic footwear.

Brian looked down at his wife's feet.

"Get yourself a little pedicure?"

"I needed a spa day like you wouldn't believe," declared the woman, while her husband sat slumped like a wreck, barely able to keep his eyes open. "I've just been under so much stress! That's why I didn't want to be on my feet cooking- because my energy's just shot and because I don't want to mess up the polish. Isn't it pretty? Robin's egg blue."

"I can't see colors," the dog reminded. "So when does the pizza get here? Chris home yet?"

"It's late," said Lois with a frown. "They said thirty minutes or less. I should call them back and complain. Or maybe threaten not to pay." She paused. "Chris? He's in here somewhere, isn't it?"

Not until that moment. The front door opened, and there stood Chris, who came into the house wearing a top hat and tails. In a cheerful squawk, he answered the curiosity that must have been on everyone's faces.

"Mr. Herbert's teaching me how to ballroom dance!" He jauntily approached the couch and took a load off next to his stepfather. When he saw the dog, he had to do a double take. "Wow, Brian you look beat!"

"Yes, he does, rather," said Stewie, finally making his voice heard- at least by some. "Hard day at the office?" he asked concernedly.

"You don't know the half of it," the dog replied, while he was resting his eyes. Then, they popped open, as he seemed to remember that he wasn't supposed to mention his own suffering. He chuckled, and it came out sounding pretty forced. "I'll be okay, Chris. No worries." Another chuckle, more strained yet. "It's not like it's never happened before!" He cleared his throat, and his tone changed into an announcing-something-to-the-family one.

"But, uhm, in all seriousness, I've got something to tell you guys. I'll probably be working a few more hours, from here on out, or at least until they hire someone else at the dealership, because Sean just quit today."

"Sean?" Stewie exclaimed in surprise, recalling something he'd heard Brian say about that guy. "But wasn't he the one who was all into sales and had the best numbers? The boss's nephew, even? How hard can it be to work for your uncle?"

"Just because he was good at his job doesn't mean he liked it, I guess," said the canine, shrugging. He frowned into middle space, his eyes sad, and at first, the baby thought that he was sorry to lose his work friend, but then he guessed a more likely cause. Brian didn't like working at the Hummer dealership, either. It had offended his sensibilities from day one, but Brian couldn't just go and quit because…

The baby looked around the living room at the various members of the family. Even Meg was making her way down the stairs.

Brian had to feel stuck, didn't he? How could he not?

"Paddy blew a gasket, though," the dog added.

"Well, what is Sean going to do now- ?" Stewie asked, but as he ended the question, Meg, standing in front of them now, started to speak.

"Brian?" Her voice was petulant, and she had her hands on her hips. "Did Mom tell you that she wouldn't let me make dinner? Did she tell you why? Because she wouldn't tell me! You and I did such a great job last time, and I said I'd handle dinner since she didn't want to cook, and- "

"That's enough, Meg," Lois suddenly shut her down sternly. Her gaze flitted over to Brian, before landing back on Meg. "I told you no, and that's that. Don't go trying to stir up trouble between me and Brian, now."

The doorbell rang, which turned out to be the tardy pizza man. Lois crabbed at him a little bit, but did not threaten not to pay, and soon enough, she started handing boxes in, which the rest of them took turns grabbing from her hands and carrying into the dining room. Stewie took a box of what appeared to be some kind of side, and walked behind Brian, who was carrying a pizza.

Meg and Chris were also carrying pizzas.

"W-wow, honey, you think you ordered enough food?" the dog called back to the living room, with an amazed laugh. "Do we have some guests coming that I don't know about? Like a whole army, maybe?"

Nobody answered, but he seemed to maybe be holding for laughter, so once again, Stewie laughed at Brian's lame, Dad joke.

He was rewarded by seeing the dog's tail doing a little wag. The corners of Stewie's mouth turned up in response, all on their own.

Stewie then felt a presence at his back, and jumped, surprised, when he turned and suddenly Lois was right up close behind him, toting a trio of more side dish boxes.

"Aaaahh! Don't sneak up on me, you mad cow!"

"Now we have leftovers," said his wretched mother, presumably addressing her husband.

They all continued to the dining room like train cars, all in a row. And although Brian wasn't bringing up the rear, the youngest Griffin may or may not have spent the rest of the walk watching the dog's caboose.

When the family was getting seated at the table, Brian was the one to help Stewie into his highchair. The boy didn't necessarily need the help, but he didn't complain.

However, something started to bother him just before the dog was about to sit back in his own chair.

"But wait a minute, Brian," the baby began, as the troubling thought occurred to him. "If you're going to be working more, that doesn't mean you'll have to work tomorrow, does it? I mean, our trip to the Children's Science Museum is still on, isn't it?"

His stepdoggy smiled.

"Wanna make absolutely sure you won't be missing out on that comedy club experience, huh? No worries, Stewie. We're definitely still going tomorrow."

"Oh!" the child exclaimed, suddenly a little embarrassed as he looked into those dark, liquid eyes and at that teasing but kind smile. He felt his cheeks heat up a little. "I wasn't...really worried...exactly…" he said in a low voice, twiddling his thumbs, but Brian had already moved on, talking to Lois now.

After depositing the boxes she'd been carrying onto the table, the woman had gone for plates, and as she laid one in front of her dog husband, he smiled and thanked her, but added, somewhat warily, it seemed,

"This really is a lot of food, Lois. It looks delicious- "

"She didn't cook it," Stewie felt compelled to remind him. He looked down at his mother's feet contemptuously. "And her toes should've been dry a looooong time ago. She didn't need to use them as an excuse, or to contaminate our kitchen table by resting her toxic tootsies on it. I don't know how I'll be able to eat breakfast in the same room with it tomorrow morning. But hey, at least now her toenails match the protruding veins in her feet."

Both his mother and stepfather ignored the snarky comments. Brian was still trying to make his point.

"And it's a fun treat to have pizza at the end of the workweek, but, well…" He chuckled awkwardly. "All of this," he gestured around at the food on the table, "must have cost fifty or sixty dollars." He hesitated. "And then there's the pedicure."

Lois had gone back to her own seat, and things had all at once become very still. Chris and Meg were chewing, but they were eating slower than usual, their eyes on their mother. The uncharacteristic quiet in the room seemed to go on for an unnaturally long time. Everyone's attention was on Lois. Like a black hole, she drew everything toward her.

When she did speak, she said simply, "What about it?" In a deliberately light voice that challenged Brian to push his case.

Brian, for his part, had on that guilty, wide-eyed dog look, as if he was the one whose behavior was on trial. And maybe, in a way, that was correct.

"Ahaha," he chuckled nervously. "Just...can we be a little more careful, honey? How about it? It's okay to splurge once in awhile, but I'm not made of money, you know."

There was another tense, lengthy pause that had even Stewie holding his breath. Well, that, and trying not to blurt out at Lois, "What, did you have a stroke, bitch?"

Then…

"Fine." One word, clipped but compliant, though something in her gaze was argumentative, still. In fact, as they all slowly resumed eating, she muttered defensively, "'Once in awhile'. Well, tonight was kind of the first time, wasn't it? It's not like I do this all the time. I guess it's a good thing you're getting more hours, though, to make up for my mistake."

She wasn't looking at anybody; her eyes were trained down inflexibly as she shook parmesan cheese onto her slices of pizza. But the dog was watching her. He looked sad. Almost as if he wanted to comfort her, and it was almost enough to set Stewie's blood to boiling.

"I love you, dear," Brian offered out of nowhere, seconds later, and the baby just about slapped himself on the forehead out of frustration and secondhand embarrassment. Stewie might not be a relationship expert, but even he knew a hamfisted, ill-placed attempt at romance when it was as obvious as that one.

As uncomfortable as this dinner was, though, it was turning out to be one of the most oddly civilized in Griffin family history. There was no noisiness or crude talking with mouths full; mostly just people eating while staring at walls or at their food. Or Lois, in Brian's case.

"Goodnight, sweetie," Lois crooned, lowering him down into his crib. Her hold slipped, either intentionally or not, and she wound up dropping him from a couple of inches above the mattress. Stewie gave a little grunt as he was briefly a literal bouncing baby boy, but was mostly just relieved he'd have no more pinot-scented burps near his face tonight.

"Pleasant dreams," the woman told him, as she made her slightly wobbly way to the door.

"Horrific nightmares!" Stewie merrily wished her in return, but of course she didn't respond. She vacated the room, and the boy laid there, the night closed in around him, unable to sleep.

He realized he was excited for tomorrow...maybe a little disproportionately excited. This certainly wouldn't be the grandest adventure he'd ever been on, and he wondered why he was looking forward to it quite so much. Still, being anxious for the morning wasn't the only reason Stewie couldn't sleep. He quite simply had a bout of restlessness, without knowing where it came from.

The baby stared up at his mobile, squinting to see the shapes as best he could in the dark. Down the hallway, he heard that vile woman's door close aaaannd...lock. Yes. There it was. Stewie frowned up at the fuzzily silhouetted menagerie of animals hanging above him. His eyes found the platypus.

Platypus? Okay, kind of an unconventional choice to be included in that group. Every kid's favorite- the platypus.

Stewie decided he would start the mobile and count how many times the platypus came around, and maybe that would lull him to sleep. But before he could put his plan into motion, his mind turned back toward his mother's room. Well, his mother and Brian's room, no matter how much the thought of them sharing a room as man and wife still made him shudder.

Was it Lois's idea to lock the door? Did Brian shudder in fear and disgust when she locked them in together at night? Stewie had more or less given up his theory about a torture chamber, or plans to destroy the world (er, his mother's plans, that was), but he had to believe whatever she was hiding wasn't good. He remembered when he'd sworn to get to the bottom of it.

He could get his ray gun and go blast the lock off right now, find out. But no, he had no idea what he'd be walking into. Did he want to open a can of worms he'd still be dealing with tomorrow and that would interfere with his outing? No, whenever he chose to make his move and find a way into the locked bedroom, he'd have to be stealthier than that.

The baby pouted in his crib. His life, perhaps even more now than before, was about keeping him in the dark about things. It was most exceedingly vexing. Locked doors, both literal and metaphorical abounded. Because yes, there was more than one actual door, wasn't there? There was also the basement door Brian locked tight behind him when he wanted to hide for awhile from the fact that he'd married the bride of Chucky.

It was then, just then, with his arms crossed over his little chest, staring at a platypus in the dark, that an idea- no, a hunch, really- occurred to him. What good relations there had been to begin with in this marriage of convenience were deteriorating. Might that have something to do with Lois's concealed misdeeds in the locked room she and the dog were supposed to share? If Brian liked to have "me time" in the basement, maybe he was down there at this very moment. That was, if Lois didn't force him to spend the night with her out of insatiable prurient desires.

Stewie slipped from his crib, quiet as a mouse, snagging his ray gun just in case. There was at least an outside chance that Brian could be in the basement, and if he was, that was one mystery solved tonight. He would find out what Brian did alone, and that would be one less secret being kept from Stewie. That sounded like a much more productive thing to do than lying in bed and trying in vain to sleep.

He moved like a ninja through the dark, sleeping household, and quickly found himself in front of the closed basement door. Closed and locked. Stewie tried the knob, just to be sure. Brian might be careless and forget sometime- he seemed like the type to blow his own top secret operation. But, no. The door was indeed locked.

The infant shifted his ray gun back and forth between both of his hands, looking down at it thoughtfully. This was a way in, but it also left evidence behind. Once he used it, there would be a hole in the door, and what if Brian got blamed for that? No, best to use something that didn't leave any damage behind.

Then he remembered something, which was a stroke of luck. It was also a stroke of luck that Lois hadn't washed this sleeper since last night, and that last night was when Meg had dropped a bejeweled bobby pin on the stairs.

Normally, Stewie would hesitate big time before attaching anything that had made contact with Meg's body to his own person. However, it had just been so pretty and sparkly, and Stewie had boiled it clean, so he figured it was okay. He'd picked it up and kept it because he wanted to experiment with using it in his own hair. He only had a little bit of that so far, true, but the strands that he did have were lovely and lustrous, and deserved something as glam as that pin.

Now, it would serve a different purpose.

It was child's play to pick the lock. Stewie then took a deep breath as he opened the door just enough to pass through. He was going to be sooo disappointed if Brian turned out to be doing something boring. The boy was pretty confident that the dog wasn't, though. Secrets that had to be kept behind lock and key should have the decency to be juicy.

Standing at the top of the stairs, his ears picked up the sound of a barely audible cry. Stewie froze, cocked his head, and listened for more. It sounded like Brian was...whimpering?

Oh, god, is that what he came down here to do? Cry?

Oh, no...

The super genius infant was conflicted. He felt a pang, like a hook had been inserted into his heart and was being pulled on. Such was his pain at suspecting his stepdoggy was in pain. On the other hand, this was not the scoop he'd hoped to discover. He didn't know what he'd expected to find, but he'd had a vague hope it was something fun and salacious, something he hadn't been meant to find out. Well, perhaps Brian had meant to keep his misery private, but now Stewie would have to go to him, and attempt to offer him comfort. And the baby was absolute crap at comforting people.

Still, when he heard another exclamation, still soft, but louder than the rest, and desperate sounding, that was enough to propel Stewie forward, swiftly creeping down the stairs. He heard Brian moan a couple more times, and he was about to call out to his friend. But that was before he saw what the dog was doing.

When Stewie's stepdoggy came into view, he turned out to be lying on the couch, sprawled out like one whose entire energy was concentrated on this moment of letting go. He was whining uncontrollably, his expression looked pained, and his eyes were squeezed shut.

Stewie gasped and quickly squeezed his shut, before ducking behind a stack of boxes, out of sight.

What...what was he doing?

The baby's heart beat faster. Some part of him knew, some instinctual part of him combined with the part that had absorbed all the references and jokes from society and pop culture. Stewie opened his eyes back up and peeked around the boxes at Brian, who had himself well in hand.

Yes, Stewie had heard about this, but he had never seen anything like it before. Nor had he tried doing it himself. He had the same equipment, of course… Well, it didn't look quite like that. The boy's cheeks burned self-consciously at how un-self-conscious the canine was, frigging away at himself enthusiastically.

Of course Stewie got the occasional stiffy, but Brian's doghood looked so hard and firm, if you were to slap someone across the face with it, you'd probably knock them out.

But then, why would you slap them across the face with it?

This was wrong. This was so wrong. He was watching his stepfather pleasure himself, for crying out loud! Stewie figured he must be experiencing pleasure, because why else would he be doing it, but he seemed to be feeling so much pleasure that he could barely take it. The child had never seen that expression on anyone's face before.

All the while, Brian continued to moan and groan, whine and whimper. He was also panting very loudly. Then suddenly, Stewie discovered it wasn't just the dog's labored breathing that he was hearing. He, Stewie, was also breathing heavily. It was so noticeable that Brian surely would have heard him, was he not so occupied with his own...activities, and making plenty of noise himself.

The baby felt curiously hot all over, and a little faint. His gaze wandered from Brian's face back to his member, and the paw flying rapidly up and down it. Stewie, who never struggled to use his brain, now was in the uncustomary position of being basically unable to think, to make out even one coherent thought in the muddle of his mind.

Oh. Wait. Here's one. My pants feel tight.

Following on the heels of that one was a shadow of a question, wanting to know why his stomach wasn't turned, why he wasn't running out of here as fast as he could, making proclamations of disgust. He chose not to focus on that question right now.

So something was wrong with him, what else was new? He'd deal with that later, but right now all he wanted to do was…

Aaaaaaahhh!

In his mind, he cried out, while his lips parted to let a little hiss escape. The boy rubbed his crotch through his sleeper, the padding of his diaper only a slight impediment to pleasure. This was still so much...more than anything he'd ever felt before. This was the first time he'd touched himself with an erotic intention.

My word! That's...that's delightful!

Yes, by god, he should stop watching, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the show in front of him. It was like Brian was an unwitting performer, and that squalid old couch his stage. Stewie now knew what it was to be a voyeur, and that thought excited him even more. He rubbed harder against the front of his sleeper, beginning to bump his hips forward.

Brian began to grunt urgently, thrusting into that paw. His young stepson, unbeknownst to the canine, was watching mere feet away, utterly mesmerized by what he was seeing, and unable to get enough of what he was hearing. It was all so raw, so animalistic, so stimulating. All he wanted to do was touch himself. Why had he never done this before?! What had this dog- his stepfather- done to him? Yessss, all he wanted to do was touch himself. Touch himself to Brian.

However, it seemed the show was ending? Because as Stewie looked on, feeling a smidge of alarm, the dog appeared to reach some kind of grand crescendo. It happened all at once, Brian letting out a gruff sound that resembled a drawn-out, particularly satisfied bark, while a spray of something whitish shot from the animal's member, and his body gave a rough jerk on the couch. Stewie gasped, and while his own little erection pulsed so much that it almost pained him, he couldn't breathe again until he saw that Brian was alright.

Alright he was, and he seemed to be coming out of his self-indulgent mood. No longer was he focused so single-mindedly on moving his paw up and down his member, but he was opening his eyes and sitting up. Stewie gulped, and withdrew all the way back behind the boxes.

He heard Brian moving around, just making some slow, shuffling noises. And he heard the dog let out a sigh. It seemed like a resigned, tired sigh, which perplexed Stewie, when Brian had apparently just recently been in the grip of bliss. The child didn't puzzle over this very hard, though, because he still felt that pressing need in his groin, and, reaching down to give himself a squeeze, nearly whimpered out loud. He clamped a hand over his mouth and chanced a peek around at Brian again.

His stepdoggy was facing away from him, but seemed to be wiping at himself and the couch with a tissue. Now would probably be the perfect opportunity to leave. He had seen enough, and if he hung around much longer, he might get caught. With this in mind, Stewie turned and fled; somewhat slower than he would've liked, since movement proved a little uncomfortable in his state.

But the sooner he got up to bed, not only would he not be found wandering the house trying to spy on people, he would be alone and free to have at himself without caution!

Oh, what it might be, to unbutton his pajamas, or maybe even disrobe entirely, and do just what his stepdoggy had been doing! The baby reached his room, shut the door behind him, and climbed back into bed with alacrity.

All he wanted to do was touch himself…

His hand curled for the first time around his shaft seconds later, though, he realized that wasn't true. It played out like a movie in his mind's eye, what he'd discovered in the basement...

He wanted to touch himself.

And he wanted to touch Brian.

Soft fur and hard flesh. Sounds of pleasure and wanting. Oh, that wanting was such a sweet ache! Wanting what? Just more… His hand speeding faster. ...And more... He wasn't sure if that was a hand, after all. It could be a paw. Oooo, he got quite a tingle from that thought! Brian touching me?

My stepdoggy...making me...feel things… Not just leading by example, but by laying paws on Stewie, like he'd handled his own hardened, needy flesh on that couch. The boy closed his eyes tightly.

It shouldn't feel this good. It had no right to feel this good… Just friction on a simple body part. Just a little pressure… Truly he was in heaven. His breath quickened, images of that bad doggy clutching him just how he desired to be clutched flashing through his head. It felt so good but also… Strange. The pleasure was intensifying, and Stewie couldn't even believe that was possible. How could that be possible?! But even stranger still was the growing pressure below his waist, like he was about to wet himself. That's the only way the child could describe it, but he was too far gone to care. He couldn't stop. He had to see this through. His hand sped up, and he imagined looking up into Brian's face. His caring face… Knowing the dog was doing this to make him feel good, because he cared for him. It touched him, and in the next instant the boy saw stars as he let out a muffled cry, biting down on his free hand to stifle the noise that he was afraid would wake up one of his nearby family members. He felt his tiny tool twitching in his hand, and he bucked his hips upward repeatedly as he writhed around on the mattress, tossing the sheets around as he rode out the sensations coursing through his body.

It was over far too quickly.

The child laid there, still holding himself firmly, feeling himself softening up finally. He was tired and covered in sweat, which would normally bother him, but right here, in this moment, he couldn't give less of a fuck about being sweaty. It took him several moments to catch his breath and to finally release his boyhood. He stretched out and looked over at his discarded sleeper, which he couldn't even remember taking off. It had all happened so fast. What a rush. What a sensation.

He'd definitely be doing that again.

For a brief moment he considered putting his sleeper back on before coming to the conclusion that he was too exhausted to expend the effort. Without another thought, he rolled over and shut his eyes. It didn't take sleep long to take hold. There would be plenty to think about in the morning. But, for now, he just felt…

Satisfied...