FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Riding Shotgun

The open air. It's why he went Westwards in the first place, and it still hadn't lost its charm. Blue skies dotted by the occasional fluffy white cloud as far as the eye could see. A bump in the 'road', as it was optimistically called, sent him briefly off of his seat before landing back on it. Kyle grumbled and adjusted his wide-brimmed tan hat back to where it was before the jolt.

"Sorry bout that, Mister Hawk." The words came from right below him, from the coach driver, a sour-ass old mutt of who knows what breeds that was chewing on a long dead cigar out of the corner of his gray muzzle. Sam, that was the old codger's name. He'd been with the company a long time, in fact he probably came with the building, Kyle mused to himself.

Kyle brought his gray and black ringed tail around and gave it a good run-through with his black paw, watching with amusement at the amount of dust and random accoutrements from the road that fell out of the poofy confines. He wanted a bath pretty badly. The wide open west was something he loved. The adventure and excitement, the clean untouched air and the freedom to just pick a direction and go. The bath thing though... he could really do with some more chances to do that.

"You ever find it ironic that you guard a coach against bandits, Mister Hawk? I mean, you have a bandit mask on you at all times it would seem."

The raccoon grumbled to himself, and spoke in a voice that was softer and gentler than his rough-spun appearance would suggest. "Sam, you've made that joke about eleven times in the last week."

"Eh?" The driver pretended not to hear and held up a paw to his ear that was closest to the coach guard. Whatever, Kyle thought to himself as he looked around them.

It'd been a quiet run, not even many other travelers on the road this time. Of course most runs were the quiet sort. If you got ambushed and held up every time nobody would do the job. In fact most of the coach workers had never even seen action. Kyle had, just once. It was a brief affair that ended without bloodshed once the bandits realized how heavily guarded the coach was that time. This time it was just himself and Sam which made things much more dangerous.

With a little creaking noise Kyle adjusted himself in the chair. His nostrils flared a bit as he got an especially strong whiff of horse mixed with the usual leather scent from his jacket and gear. White-rimmed ears twitched as he heard a little faint neigh, almost as if one of the two horses knew he had noticed and was taunting him. Horse! He sprung up suddenly, keen brown eyes darting around the horizon. He placed a paw on the shoulder of the driver, who had noticed the sudden change in the raccoon and had brought the coach to a halt. That neigh he heard was not from one of their horses, but from somewhere else.

"Trouble, Kyle?" The fact that Sam actually called the raccoon Kyle and not Mister Hawk spoke volumes.

Kyle didn't speak, but removed his pistol from its holster. Putting it at half cock and opening the loading gate he spun the cylinder until the open one came by. It was good practice to only load 5 rounds in the revolver, lest a sudden jolt like the one they had just had on the road set off a round. He reached towards the belt on his waist and produced a weathered looking 44-40 cartridge and dropped it into the open cylinder before closing the loading gate and placing the pistol back in its holster. Now the guard went for his real weapon: the 10-Gauge side by side shotgun that was always by his side on such journeys.

He could feel, and hear, his own heartbeat in his chest, and not much else. Gray raccoon paws clutched the shotgun as their owner furrowed his brow and continued to intently scan for where the danger was. It was there, he could feel it. A rush of something caused a sudden shiver and tingle throughout his body.

Then it came. Two mounted riders appeared suddenly, galloping hard from the eleven and one o'clock positions relative to the coach. "Fuckin' hell". That's what Sam blurted out, and it was an appropriate comment for the occasion.

"Go!" Kyle shouted, and his driver responded. The two horses took off at the crack of the driver's whip. The raccoon was flooded with adrenaline, and he didn't even notice himself drawing back the hammers on the shotgun.

There was no conceivable good reason for there to be bloodshed unless these bandits started it. This was insured cargo, and rarely did a fight come down to actual blood being drawn. Nobody wanted to actually die. The bandits just wanted money and the guards just wanted to see the next day. Surrender was the normal course of action. That's why his next action shocked even him. Before he even realized what he was doing he felt the recoil from the shotgun on his shoulder, and the loud report from it immediately sent his ears ringing. The next fractions of a second felt like an eternity, as the rider to the right who was at this point about twenty yards away was violently knocked off his horse. It was a direct hit with at least one of the two barrels.

Things became a blur after that. Kyle broke open the action to the shotgun, and clumsily yanked the empty shells out before dropping two more in. Now he saw three riders. There must have been four to begin with, two coming from behind initially. A fragment of wood shrapnel from the coach peppered his face and eye: a near miss from one of the bandits who were now returning fire. He dared a glance down to check on Sam, but the driver wasn't there. In fact the entire coach was veering off into the dusty prairie grass; kicking up a cloud in its wake. The coon dropped down to the lower driver's seat and frantically wondered what happened to his companion. Was he shot? Did he fall over? Was he in league with the outlaws? Guess it didn't matter. He tried to at least get the horses to run in a straight line, which they sort of did.

Kyle had trouble enough before keeping his aim steady, now it was impossible as the horses ran amok over grass and hill. The riders were staying behind and to the sides of him. Finally two came up, one on either side only a few arm lengths away. He looked to the attacker on the right, thought for a brief flash he looked like a weasel or stoat, and aimed his barrels down at the larger target of the rider's horse and fired. It had the desired effect. The shot horse bellowed out in horror and disappeared behind Kyle's field of view.

That's where it all went wrong, as he should have expected things to if he had bothered to think about his actions at all. There was an impact on the coach, not another bump in the grass but from another source. Kyle looked to his left to find that the other rider he had just seen had leaped onto the front of the coach. The attacker had a red bandanna covering his muzzle, but white fur showed out where visible, and two long ears protruded from his head. The raccoon presented his pistol with stunning speed. Cocking the hammer back as he drew he got a shot off almost before the boarder could react and jerk to the side. Almost. Almost didn't cut it, the bullet missed. The attacker, who was by now clearly a rabbit smacked Kyles gun arm with enough force to send the pistol careening off into the field.

In desperation Kyle took a swing back, but as he was doing so he saw and felt a white paw clamp down firmly on his muzzle. The two locked eyes for a micro seconds; brown terrified raccoon eyes met a set of fiercely blue eyes which seemed to convey an icy coolness of their owner. With ruthless violence, the paw that was on his muzzle shoved him clean off the coach and he found the ground.

He wasn't knocked old cold, but he might as well have been. Failing to break his fall fully with hands or feet, though they made a valiant effort, he felt much of the impact on his cheek and jaw. Kyle lie motionless, oblivious to his surroundings. He started to regain awareness. First of the taste of blood and the feel of it mixed with dirt in his muzzle. Then something else, solid, a tooth most likely. Voices came next, nearby but they sounded muffled and far off. Part of him, a big part, wanted to beg for mercy. Another didn't want to go out that way. He felt completely sure that this would be the end, he had already killed one of his foes and they'd want blood in return. Why did he have to be so foolish and start a fight when one may have been avoided? His paw clutched at a lump of dirt as he tried to push himself off the earth.

It was complete folly, and the raccoon had barely lifted himself up at all when his body failed him and he went back to the inviting ground. "Bag him" he thought he heard someone say. That was indeed what he heard, and soon he felt a pair of arms on each of his shoulders lifting him up. There were two men picking him up, he realized, and for a moment wanted to fight it but thought better. They were sparing him, for the moment, and that was more than he could have ever imagined.

Kyle was shocked at the selfish thoughts that overwhelmed his mind. At that time he was barely even considering what had happened to Sam, and just wanted to survive the next few minutes. He didn't get a good look at any of them before he felt his somehow still attached hat yanked off and replaced with a sack over his head. Then his wrists were firmly grasped and he felt something tying them together.

"Hey the driver is running off." Kyle heard a raspy voice say. Driver? Sam must be alright! His heart leaped a bit at the thought, then was filled with dread.

Another voice replied to the first, it had a drawl to it that was stereotypical for a longtime Westerner. A little Southern mixed with someone else that was hard to put a claw on. "Aw let the 'ol bugger go. Ain't worth our time."

The first voice shot back. "But boss-"

"I said let him go, Billy."

That eased Kyle a lot. Sam was being let go, and he might have a shot himself of seeing another day. So one of them was Billy, and the leader was the one with the drawl, Kyle thought to himself. Who was the third one? He wouldn't find out now, as the 'boss' told his cronies to put the raccoon in the back of the coach. They did, and Kyle stumbled along blindly as he was lead to and set in the back of the stage coach.

He didn't know how long it was before they got moving. It felt like an eternity lying bound up in the back of the very coach he was guarding not so long before. On the upside he was alive, and the bleeding from the missing tooth had slowed down. Water would be really nice, he thought to himself as he tentatively wiggled around until he was sitting up against what he figured was probably the far side of the coach. The voices of the bandits were muffled and kept low so he didn't have a damn clue what was being said. His mind recalled the fight as he felt the coach start to move.

Kyle was coming down off the adrenaline high, and was suddenly aware that his stomach was in complete knots, his arms and paws and jaw hurt like hell, and he was in quite a serious situation. He slumped a bit and sighed as he had nothing to do but think and listen to the sound of horse hooves on the ground and feel the bumps of the road (or lack there of most likely).

It had to have taken about a half hour, though it seemed a lot longer to the raccoon. He started up a bit as he felt the wheels under him slowing and eventually coming to a stop. The door creaked open, and even though he couldn't see them, he could feel the eyes watching him for a few moments in silence.

A new voice, softer than the others and young sounding fell on his ears. "Well, at least he shot Tanner."

Kyle tilted his head at that, and the wheels in his raccoon mind started turning fast. Was that it? Were they happy about him shooting their compatriot? Were these guys that ruthless?

There was a hearty chuckle and the voice of their leader spoke next. "Yeah, you did us a favor, friend." Kyle realized he was being directly addressed, and tried to look towards the source of the voice. "We didn't much care for Tanner, you see, and twas to be his last job. He only joined up a few weeks ago, and he didn't take to our...methods. Was gonna pay off and be rid of him."

The raspy voice of Billy butted in. "But you took care of that for us."

There was a decided shift in the coach as someone stepped into it, and Kyle could hear someone crouching near him. With a sudden yank his hood was removed and he slammed shut his eyes against the bright sun that was shining in through the open door. That drew a few more chuckles and he felt a paw grab him by his chin and force it upwards. He felt the other's breath falling softly on his facial fur, and with an effort cracked open his eyes just a titch. A face formed in the soup of white light, and he could see short little round ears.

The figure moved back a bit and Kyle instantly could tell it was a stoat. He recognized it as one of the riders from earlier. Brown fur covered almost his entire head except the white under the chin and around the rims of the ears.

Kyle creened his head past the nearby stoat and looked at the other two standing outside the door to the wagon. On the right was the rabbit that had thrown him into the ground earlier. He wore a brown leather jacket similar to Kyle's own, and a red bandanna around his neck. From at least the head up the rabbit looked to be all white.

On the left side of the door was some sort of canine that couldn't be identified so easily. He could make out a reddish brown color on much of the face and ears, and a creamy white around the muzzle and above the eyes. That bandit was clothed in some sort of beaten up and weather faded frock coat. The man closest to him drew a knife, which made Kyle recoil a bit at first. The stoat spoke in a raspy voice, that would be Billy, then. "Lean forward pal, gonna cut those ropes off your wrist. You make a move it'd be your last."

He heeded those words, and silently leaned forward and reveled in the feel of his wrists being free. The stoat left immediately and went back outside. "Thank you, Billy."

The bandits exchanged looks, and the rabbit smirked. "Looks like we got us a smart'un here." And that would be the boss.

"What are we gonna do with him anyway, Jim?" That came from the canine. So the rabbit and bandit leader was named Jim. The raccoon was keeping keen mental notes, one never knew what minor detail would help out in a crisis. The trio of desperados was staring at him; a very uncomfortable feeling.

Jim nodded to himself slightly and motioned toward Kyle to come out. The guard had little choice and slowly made his way out. The others took a few steps back, and all of them had their paws on on a weapon. The fresh air brought the smell of a camp. Musty tent smells mingled with the scent of old smoke from an oft used fire pit. The raccoon's ears perked as he heard running water; his eyes instantly searching out the source. Beyond his three captors on a knoll of green grass were four tents, some crates, clotheslines, the fire pit he had smelled, and beyond them a small river or creek that was running fast against its rocky banks.

He felt a strong paw on his shoulder. It made him jump a bit, once again drawing amused chuckles. Without even looking he knew that was the rabbit, Jim. It was. "Go get cleaned up. Evan here," he motioned towards the canid, "-will get you some cleanin' powder. Plenty of water in the river... oh and Evan?" Evan looked towards his boss. "He runs you shoot him."

Kyle locked eyes with the rabbit for a few solid seconds. What was these guys' game? Why keep him around? Something told him to relax, and just go enjoy the bath. It was, after all, exactly what he was wanting just a few minutes prior. He started towards the water slowly, feeling the watchful eyes behind him. He glanced back and saw Jim and Billy remaining by the coach, while Evan followed him.

It was time to dare some small talk. He looked over Evan a bit. The youngest of the group of bandits was definitely some kind of mutt. The curly tail said he had some husky. The rusty brown fur wasn't totally out of the realm of being a husky, but something about him was just off.

"So what are ya, anyway?"

"Huh?" Replied the canine, with a confused head tilt.

"I mean, you a husky?"

"Oh!" The youthful voice perked up, and the curly tail gave a few wags. "Well in part. There's husky, wolf, malamute we think... don't really know for dead sure."

Kyle nodded and slowly reduced his pace so that the other was soon side by side with him. He didn't like people with guns behind him.

Nothing untoward happened though. As promised, Evan fetched some soap powder, and Kyle bathed in the river. Under the barrel of a gun, but still it was a great relief. He could have sworn for a moment that the bandit leader, Jim, was eyeballing him as he cleaned. It was what came after though that he didn't like.

The trio led him up from the river and through the camp, completely nude and wet, and to something that the raccoon hadn't noticed at first. There was a wooden stockade with three holes set off to the side of camp. Oh no, they weren't going to leave him there, were they? They were indeed, and he didn't dare struggle as his wrists and neck were set in place and the top half locked down on them

Kyle sighed at his predicament: left out to dry. Literally, in this case. He wiggled his wrists uselessly in the stocks and frowned. He looked down towards the campfire, and he could see both Jim and Billy cooking some food. The scents of which wafted over towards him, and made his stomach grumble a bit. Where was Evan? The raccoon's neckfur stood on end as his danger-sense kicked in. Evan was behind him, close. He couldn't turn his head enough to look, and even if he could have the wood from the stockade would have blocked the view.

"Sssshhh" he heard coming from behind him as he felt a paw tentatively grasp his ringed tail near the base. Oh hell no, the mutt wanted his ass? He let out a low growl involuntarily.

Kyle Hawk was a gay man. Clearly he hadn't confided that fact with any of his captors, and almost nobody knew it to begin with. Hell he even made a show of screwing the occasional saloon whore just to keep the company from finding out. It was certainly not socially acceptable. Something to be shunned. Something where if you got caught, you might have to... be an outlaw or hermit. That last fleeting thought clicked in his mind and he found himself smirking. These guys were a bunch of homos!

All thoughts immediately ceased when he felt something warm and wet lash across his tail hole. His eyes went wide and without a thought he hiked his tail up. What was he supposed to do? He let a little gasp sneak out of his muzzle, before remembering the command to be quiet. There was a faint giggle and he felt warm breath contact the now moist spot under his tail. That caused him some goosebumps, and to look back towards the camp again. The other two seemed oblivious to what was occurring a mere twenty or so yards from them.

The tongue returned to his exposed orifice. No one had ever done, well, that for him before and Kyle never imagined he was missing so much. It was different, which is what surprised him so much. He figured, having had taken other men in the rear before, that any such play would have the same basic sensations. They didn't though, this was something entirely new; a warm almost tickling feeling that seemed to shoot up his spine before settling back at its source in his nether regions.

Kyle couldn't help but shudder a bit. Another little whimper slipped out of his maw, which was cracked open a bit and he was breathing through it. Perhaps he didn't care if others heard, or maybe the blood that should have been in his brain was headed elsewhere. Indeed, the raccoon could feel himself completely slip his sheath, just as someone else was slipping a tongue gingerly past his outer defenses.

That was it. Whether these bandits had planned to molest him all along, or whether this was just Evan being a naughty young man. Whether they were going to kill him in the morning or let him go, right now he just wanted to enjoy the moment. There wasn't much he could do, movement wise, but he managed to buck his hips back just a smidgen; enough to let the husky/wolf know that he was enjoying the attention and wanted more. More indeed, is exactly what he got. Evan got the hint and plunged his tongue in.

That caused Kyle's head to sag in the stock. His whole body was going loose at the manipulations of the mutt behind him. Whether a few minutes passed or a few seconds he couldn't tell, but something soon shook the little bubble of euphoria he was in. His nose twitched a few times, smelling a sudden strong and spicy whiff of male. The raccoon's head looked up, and his eyes opened. Not a foot from his head was the source.

He might have guessed before he saw, but he was happy to see in any event. Jim was standing there, his entire body was indeed white, as Kyle suspected before but now was able to confirm due to the complete lack of clothing on the bandit boss. The rabbit had a paw on himself, and was slowly stroking his pink length. That now drew the bound up prisoner's full attention. Jim wasn't a big bunny, true to stereotypes. It was probably about five inches, though the girth looked to be average if not a bit more. There was a slight upward curve to it, and at the very top was a round bead of pre. Kyle licked his lips at it and looked up more; earsplaying as he realized how he was behaving.

"Well, well." Jim said. "I see you've met Evan."

At the mention of his name the mutt stopped what he was doing. Kyle whimpered and twitched a bit at the sudden withdrawal of pleasure from his rear. There was little time to ponder that, as he felt the rabbit smearing that bead of pre across into his gray cheek fur. Jim kept his cock just barely outside the raccoon's limited reach; teasing his prey. For the moment that teasing was forgiven as the tongue he had fallen in love with in the past few minutes returned to its duties.

"That's it Evan, get him loosened up for us." That was Billy speaking behind him. Kyle had, in the moment, forgotten about the stoat. He had a feeling that he wouldn't be so forgetful soon enough.

"Hey raccoon." Kyle looked at the source of the voice yearningly. He realized that none of these men even knew his name. The rabbit touched his head softly and gave him a smile before resuming. "You may wanna get this nice and slick." That pink tip pressed tantalizingly against his nose, and Kyle knew what to do, and why he was doing it.

He nuzzled that black raccoon nose along the underside of the shaft that had been held so close to him and which was insistently throbbing. He loved the feel of the other man's cock resting across his muzzle while he lapped at the white fuzzy sac. The strong smell of the tight scrotum was a huge turn on, and the salty taste awakened his lusty cocksucking tendencies. The tightness of the rabbit's sack slackened up quickly with the touch of the coon's warm tongue. He got rewarded with a sigh of approval from above, and then surprised at a sharp poke from his backside.

That was a finger that had just slipped itself inside him with surprising ease. He shrugged off the intrusion mentally, and returned his focus back to what was lying in front of him. The owner of that shaft was aiming it down a bit, clearly wanting more than some licking. Kyle was happy to oblige that request and opened his maw and slipped it around the tip of the rabbit's cock. This would be difficult, he instantly discovered, without the use of his paws. Jim wasn't going to go easy on him, either, if the firm grip on top of his head was any indication.

The rabbit slipped steadily deeper in his maw until the raccoon's nose was pressed against his crotchfur. Kyle was careful to keep his sharp teeth off the tender flesh, and was actually thankful that Jim wasn't too long, with the lack of patience that the rabbit was displaying. He recoiled his tongue back, and was pleasantly surprised at the sweet taste of pre.

Jim wasn't going to be content with being blown, as his white hips pulled back, then pushed back forward. Kyle slackened his jaw and let himself get muzzle-fucked, giving the occasional tongue action where he could. He wanted so bad to reach out and fondle those orbs but just gave a pretty pitiful wiggle against the stockade.

Without warning, Jim withdrew himself. Leaving Kyle with a damp and agape muzzle. As fast as he had pulled out, he was gone from view.

Kyle stared out ahead, breathing in and out slowly. He could feel the presence of the three men behind him, even if he couldn't see them. His tail was stretched out and wet with Evan's saliva.

"Evan, this slut good to go?" Kyle realized that he was the 'slut' in question, and he almost considered answering that question on his own.

"Yeah boss, he's good and loose." Came the mutt's reply.

Kyle braced himself. If Jim wasn't going to be patient on his muzzle he sure wasn't about to be patient on his rump. He shuddered as he felt what he knew was the rabbit's tip smearing across his entrance. That first little push from the buck stung him with a brief but sharp pain. Jim was courteous enough to hold up a moment, to let his captive collect himself. The raccoon appreciated the brief pause, but yelped a bit in surprise as it was followed up with a full on thrust that took the rabbit all the way home. He panted heavily and gritted his teeth. A few moments passed before he felt a set of pinprick-like claws dig into his hips.

"Mmm, you take to this well, raccoon." As he spoke he was pulling out slowly.

Kyle was indeed loosened up, which he was immensely glad of. Still, this was pretty raw, and the friction more than he was used to. Not painful, but noticeable... he loved it. Gray ears splayed to the sides and he nodded. "Y-yes, sir. Not my first."

Jim shouted back to his compatriots. "See boys, he's already an upgrade over Tanner!"

"He looks like it." That was Billy, who muttered something to himself before going on. "Hey, Evan, come get me warmed up, ya lazy mutt. I wanna nut in that ass after boss is done."

Kyle was blushing furiously as he listened to them discuss him as if he were a piece of meat. More embarrassed at the fact that he was enjoying such treatment then the actual occasion. The invading member was starting to properly fuck him now.

Beyond the sounds of the immediate sex, Kyle could hear some feint slurping from behind him as well, and figured that must have been Evan going down on the stoat.

Jim did something to effect the angle at which he was going in that made his cock tip push square against the pleasure spot within the raccoon. Kyle couldn't contain a high pitched moan that was surely music to the boss's- his boss's -long ears. The thrusts got harder, almost violent even. The claws dug in.

The buck was close, and for his part Kyle felt a few waves that almost got him over the edge as well. This time he hadn't even been thinking of his own privates, but he was hard to the point of being painful. The occasional drop of pre fell to the ground from the raccoon; the thrusting of the rabbit made his own shaft bounce up and down against his belly fur.

"Nnnggg," was all Jim said, a bit anti-climatic perhaps for a climax. His actions though were far from that. With utter abandon he slammed forward. Kyle could feel the throbbing cock in his backside, and knew that last savage thrust was the end of that. Jim grunted and rode out his orgasm, tightly gripping the coon's hips and keeping himself fully hilted as his cock sputtered out.

Except for the heavy breathing of both parties, things became silent and still for a few moments.

"Very nice," the rabbit coughed and caught his breath, "-raccoon.." With a throat-rumble the boss pulled himself out, and Kyle felt a stream of hot seed trickle down the back of his balls.

The coon shuddered at the empty sensation. More was coming. Indeed, barely had he considered that when he felt another cock tip smearing along his messy backside.

"I love to fuck a cum-filled hole."

Billy didn't seem any thicker than Jim had been, and he slid in quite easily; making the captive coon whimper and strain against his sturdy restraints. He was longer though, as became apparent as new depths within Kyle got explored.

There was no pretense of going slow here. No consideration what-so-ever. Billy went straight to work, humping the rump that his boss had just slickened up. He felt strong paws pushing down on his back which he had no choice but to counter by pushing up with his legs; lest he stumble and get his neck caught in the stocks. Doing so caused him to clench down tight on the long shaft in him.

That was a mixed blessing. On one hand, it sent the top headed towards the edge, and Kyle kind of wanted that to last a bit longer. On the other hand, it sent the top toward the edge, and Kyle kind of wanted to get this whole thing over with before he got TOO abused back there.

"Shit, shit, shit." Was all Billy was saying as his movements got frantic, and with a loud growly type moan he too unloaded his precious cargo. He showed no tact, and quickly pulled out and gave the raccoon an annoyed shove on the rear. Clearly he wasn't happy with reaching orgasm so quickly.

That left one more bad guy, Kyle figured, and sure enough he felt a tender touch on his rump. A tender touch, not the rough one that the other guys would give. Had to be Evan. It wasn't a cock tip that he felt on his leaking, and surely gaping, hole though. Evan wasn't....

Except he was. If Kyle liked the rimming before, this was pure insanity. He nearly felt himself cum right there, at the touch of that tongue on his freshly pounded backside. That wasn't all. He felt a paw curl around his totally ignored shaft. He knew the other male's excretions were being lapped up, and the sheer dirtiness of that very concept drove his mind to dark corners he never knew existed. It only took a few strokes of his pent up cock before he himself whimpered, and with a few pushes back into that soft paw he came. Evan removed both paw and muzzle.

Kyle Hawk was spent, in every imaginable fashion. Wobbly legs could no longer support himself, and he gave in to the evil stockade; stumbling down and whining as his chin caught his full weight. He looked even more pitiful than he felt: Cum-stained ass, his own mess below him on the ground, and languishing in his restraints.

"Aw let him out, Billy."

The stoat did so, and Kyle felt himself slip to the ground as the stockade was opened up. They left him there curled up on the ground for awhile. He wasn't sure, but perhaps he dozed off for awhile.

*

The raccoon eventually regained awareness, and slowly sat up. Just Jim was there, sitting beside him with a small pot of beans and a spoon. So, he did fall asleep. How long had it been? The rabbit wasn't looking at him in a menacing way, but gave a genuine smile as he saw Kyle looking at him. Jim was no longer nude, but had his leather jacket and blue pants back on. And around his own waist Kyle noted a wool blanket.

"Nice to see ya awake, got some beans here for ya."

Kyle nodded and eagerly reached for the spoon. Campfire beans were never a favorite, but his last meal felt like a distant memory. The dried out mess would have normally turned his stomach, but it tasted better then a steak and brew at the best saloon right then. His eyes lit up at the flask that was also lying there, and the rabbit chuckled at that.

"Yah, have ya some whiskey."

Kyle did, he drank it as if it was water. The brown liquid went down with a burn, but nothing he wasn't used to, and something he could surely use right now. He closed his eyes and reveled in the warming sensation going down to his belly. Once more he looked back at the boss's sharp blue eyes. "Kyle Hawk."

The rabbit jutted out a paw, which Kyle took and gave a friendly shake. "Bout fuckin' time you introduce yourself, boy."

"Sorry, I just.."

"Thought we's just a bunch of no good murderer's." Jim completed his thought.

"Yeah..."

Jim nodded slowly. then looked off towards the horizon. The sun was going down a bit now. "You're good with that shotgun, but why'n the hell you shoot first?"

That was a good question, and now that Kyle thought about it he had been the only real aggressor of the day. This group didn't shoot first, and they let Sam run off. "I don't know, sir, I'm sorry."

The boss nodded once more. "How much they payin' you for this run?"

"One hundred dollars."

Jim reached out and touched Kyle's shoulder in a much more tender way than he had felt that paw previously. "Then rest here tonight, and in the mornin' I'll see to it you gets your hundred dollars, and can be on your way."

Now that truly shocked the raccoon, and he placed his own paw on top of the one that was touching his shoulder. Was this for real? "What makes you think I wouldn't turn you into the sheriff?"

That drew a hearty chuckle, and Jim shook his head in amusement. "Cause Sheriff Thompson takes a cut of our hauls, keeps the posse off our back, and occasionally works out his baser urges with me 'n the boys." The rabbit got a more serious look across his face. "Why'd you come out West, Kyle?"

Kyle shifted a bit, noticing his rump was still slick and plenty sore. He looked around at the amber colored evening sky. Heard the sound of absolutely nothing but the insects and wind. Saw the simple camp, with a few tents, warm campfire, and running river beside it. This was exactly why he left the cities. To be away from society, and prying eyes, and working for bankers.

"I came here..." he stammered a bit, and bit his lip. "I came here to be free from my old life, and to start a new one." He sighed.

"You came here for this, I can see in ya. Nobody here will make you go or stay, Kyle. You wanna be a free man and pay no mind to the world you just say so."

Kyle felt invigorated. Bandits? Was that who he was about to join up with? These weren't bad guys though, they were like him. Hell maybe they never killed a soul yet. For all he'd seen they were good people. "I already got the mask." He said with a slight smirk, recalling the annoying joke the Sam used to constantly repeat.

"So you in?"