It was hard to comprehend how your situation could've gotten worse, but then you became the filthy asshole of a German Shepherd. Through a bad wish and lingering magics you had experienced being a dog turd, getting shat out, and then being the hole that pushed it out. Worse yet, your senses still lingered as you could feel, smell, and worse of all taste what you just pushed out. Still in it's squat, you were forced to stare at your past self, a fat coil of steaming shit. The last thing the genie knew you were, and you hope he can find you because if the ripe farts you burped out was anything to go off, you didn't want to spend eternity as a tailhole.
Now freshly finished with its business the dog would stand, and trot off, tail dropping over you and trapping you in the lingering stench and taste of fresh dog fudge. Gag worthy would be an understatement to it all, no description could ever paint it's vile nature in the proper light. Light blotted out by tail fur, and now feeling it move, your "mouth" clenching with the hounds every trot. No clue where you were being taken at this point, but wherever it was, you hope the genie could find it. Thinking back on it, the Genie did mention that he would take a few days to recharge. The thought made you quiver, a few days trapped as the asshole of a big dog, you didn't like it. The situation only getting more real as you felt a bubbling in the dogs bowels almost like a bubble moving up your throat. Lips unclenching as you forced out a hissing fart. It's stench trapped under the tail with you leaving you reeling, God you hope he would recover his magic quicker.
The first few hours were relatively uneventful, but that didn't spare you from how foul it all was. The canine letting out a steady stream of poots and gas that kept you preoccupied. You figured out that the Shepherds colon had respectively become your throat. Able to feel that growing pressure as what felt like each swallow only helped to compress shit. Able to taste it's growing mass helping you regrettably grow accustomed to its flavour. Not once in your life had you ever hoped to get used to the taste of shit, but you had no choice as a doggy butthole.
In the time you also figured the dog had no owner, wandering aimlessly about and no name spoken. Feeling the hike of its leg and hearing the sound of people walking around the hound. Cars in the distance, muffled by the tail and cheeks. You hated to admit it, but while this was vile, you do feel safer as the dogs asshole. Your fate for the next few days as a mound of poop would've been far more up to fate than if your dog had to go number two.
Soon you'd see the light fade between the bristles of fur, the sun setting on your first day as a German Shepherd's pucker. Though the dog wouldn't let you end the day without emptying it's bowels. Tail hiking up as you felt the pressure you helped make shift. A ripe, hot Phhhhrrttt, puffing out your mouth as the loaf of doggy doo pressed against your lips. Gradually bulging out as it took to that familiar squat, aiming it's butt to the ground as it went about it's normal routine through its unnoticed prisoner.
You wished to never experience such an experience in such detail. Every lump, the slimy texture, the sickening heat and the way it squished against your lips. The fresh stench of moist dog crap burning into your being, smearing brown over your pink lips. Thick logs crackling and dully thudding against the grass, coiling and splitting before your unwilling gaze. The shit was awful, but the worst part was the pleasure. The bliss of emptying out such a revolting mess, the sick pride that you helped make it. Your conflicted emotions at your forefront as you pinched off the last turd, burping out a final blast of dog gas. Tail lowering as the dog once again walking off, you left to contemplate your new emotions.
The night would come and go, sleep was hard as you squeaked up farts through dusk. The second day following generally the same routine, pushing up a large mound in the morning and spending most of the day in relative isolation under the German Shepherd's tail. No Genie showing up, but you would be greeted by the tongue of the dog. Finally cleaning you up after the bathroom trips. It felt nice, more than nice even, pleasurable as that meaty canine tongue dug into your filthy folds, stimulating you to clench on your own. Loosing yourself in the moment of pleasure, it just felt so nice to be nurtured by your owner. Though as that tongue and head pulled away, the dread would start to Seep in, being a butthole was messing with your head. The longer you stayed like this, the worse things would get, maybe even to a degree that you actually believe you were a butthole. As that tail came back down you were left with that thought.
God, where was that genie!