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The room smelled of sweat, and smoke. A small room, simple as befitted its purpose. The town didn't believe in spoiling its law enforcement.

"Well young'un. You're in a real tight spot aint ya."

The soft mocking voice came from behind a plume of cigar smoke, and the young bull could barely make out the wide evil grin on the lion from behind the cloud.

"I don't know what you mean sherrif, honest!"

The lion chuckled, his deputy, a grinning Doberman, joining in the merriment from the other side of the small table.

"Sure ya do young calf. Your pappy has excelled himself this time. Pity he left you to come to town and get his supplies when he held up that train by Cobb's Station. Now he's got hisself a whole mess of gold, and a lot of angry folks interested in his whereabouts."

The bull just sat quietly, his mind whirring as his worst fears were realised. They knew! He thought the identity of his pa was a well kept secret, but somehow the sheriff had put it all together. The great and mysterious William "Bull" Murdoch, scourge of the Western Plains, had a calf, young George McCready. His mother's name, and her features too, his coat a soft brown and white mix where his pa was black.

The secret had held too well for too long, and they had gotten complacent. Now it looked like it was going to cost them.

"So young master Murdoch, we need to have us a little conversation here. Judgin' by the order you placed with the store, your pappy isn't plannin' on coming into a town for a while, and we think that's right unneighbourly of him. I am special keen to talk, what with the reward the railway company has to offer. So, I figure you would be just itchin to tell me everything you know about how to find where he's holed up. "

The young bull waited it out, the lion casually puffing on his cigar and sizing him up but leaving him to sweat. Eventually the sherrif just shook his head, a feral grin spreading across his muzzle.

"I must say I am disappointed in you young calf. Truly I am. Now you are going to force me to do things I really don't like, aint that true deputy?"

"Oh yes sherrif, terrible shame."

The shackled bull snorted at that, his eyes turning first to the lion, then the Doberman, and back again. If they were grinning any wider their jaws would rupture. He worked his muzzle, chewing his cud so to speak, working up a nice ball of phlegm before opening his lips and spitting, the globule describing a perfect arc through the smoke before impacting the lion's nose with a satisfying splatter.

The lion slowly wiped the spit from his muzzle, eyeing the young bull with grudging respect. George merely grinned back and gave a cheeky wink. Time would tell if the bull was still this defiant shortly.

Before the bull could react, the lion stood up, his revolver pressed against the bull's chest. The deputy had moved in support, rising from his own chair and pointing his shotgun at the bull's head, as if a round to the sternum wasn't enough to end any contest and he wanted to make absolutely sure.

"Time to stand up little beefy. I think we need to start asking those questions a bit more forceful like."

George rose to his hooves slowly, his hands still shackled behind him, fingers clenching and unclenching. Whatever bravado he might have found, inside he was terrified but he had no idea how to get out of his current predicament.

The lion slowly circled him, the muzzle of his colt 45 tracing a slow semicircle around his chest and shoulder before coming to rest in the nape of his neck.

"Now, bend over like a good little calf son. You know the drill."

George gritted his teeth and complied, ashamed and embarrassed. He did know the drill, all too well. He had fallen foul of the law a few times in the town as a young calf, still living with his guardians, when the current sheriff had been the deputy. The town liked to use fairly direct methods to deal with unruly young'uns.

With the muzzle of the revolver never leaving his skin, George bent over the table, his head lolling over the edge and his chest planted on the harsh wood. As he lay there, sweating, the deputy set to work, first shackling his ankles to the restraints on the near set of table legs, before unlocking the cuffs and completing the job by tying his wrists to a corresponding set of restraints on the far legs. It had been a few years since George had been in this position, and the young bull was now much larger. He made a comical site draped over the table, and the two lawmen enjoyed a laugh at his expense, their amusement complete when they managed to undo his pants buttons and pull his dusty trousers down to his ankles.

The sheriff stood again, and for George there was some consolation for at least he no longer felt the cold steel of the revolver on his neck, but he was sweating even harder now, the scent of bull thickening the funk in the room and adding a sickly sweet note. The lion walked slowly behind the bull, admiring the view.

"That is one sweet piece of rump deputy. You would thank God almighty himself if you could see this piece of ass. Two big ripe melons as big as I ever did see, and I bet that cute little tailhole is just itchin' for some attention."

George blushed furiously, biting his tongue to avoid giving the lion any satisfaction and instead hoping against hope that he was joking. The young bull was kind of sensitive about his rump, it grew so broad so young that the other young'uns in town called him lard ass all the time. There was no lard there though, it was one hundred per cent prime beef.

He felt an affectionate paw slowly stroking his rump, first one cheek, then the other, sharp claws extending to rake down his fur and draw a gasping moan from his muzzle. Then he let out a deep moo as he felt the paw move, and as the other gripped his tail tuft and pulled, his precious bull balls contracted under the painful squeezing of a lion paw intent on mischief.

The sheriff merely chuckled.

"Only thing I like more than some well done rump is a nice pair of prairie oysters. And that is quite a pair you got there calf. First thing first though, duty before pleasure and all. You have been mighty disrespectful, and it's time to teach you some manners."

George gritted his muzzle and closed his eyes, trying to will himself to resist the coming pain. He heard the familiar sound of a leather strap slicing through the air, the peculiar buzzing noise he remembered, as the sheriff gave a few leisuirely practice swings. Finally, the buzz came loud, and close, and this time it ended with a sharp crack as burning pain lanced through his rump.

The whipping went on and on, the placid young bull straining to escape his bonds and snorting in pain but otherwise taking it without breaking, his flattened ears the only obvious clue to his distress. He opened his eyes briefly, catching a glimpse of the deputy in front of him, the grinning Doberman openly fondling his bulging groin as he watched the bull get it.

Eventually the lion tired of the game, throwing the strap to the floor and letting out a soft roar as George just lay there catching his breath. He felt he had won the first round, but he didn't know how he could win the bout.

"Impressive calf, really impressive. I like nothing more than a nice well tenderised rump, and yours looks just perfect now."

Another loud crack, and the lion smacked his big paw down onto George's sore ass, the bull grunting finally in pain as the sheriff giggled.

"Don't spose you have learned enough of a lesson to cooperate now have you?"

The bull just shook his head, sharp horns waving in the dim light. They would not break him so easily.

"Hrumpf. Didn't think so. Kinda pleased really. Hey deputy, how do you like your rump?"

"Well done sheriff, always well done."

"Agreed deputy. And this rump is nicely tender, but it needs a bit more heat I think. Say, I might just have the thing."

As George watched with increasing panic, the lion crossed to the small open fire, reaching for a long metal handle. He lifted the implement from its place deep in the coals, and the bull could see at its end a metal star, about an inch across, glowing cherry red from the heat.

"Now this is how you sear a rump. Normally I use this to brand our horses, sort of mark of the sheriff if you will, but every bad calf needs a brand too."

The bull snorted in fear as he saw the glowing end approaching, his neck straining as the lion moved behind him until he couldn't see any more. He rested his head over the end of the table again, breath coming in gasping heaves. He wished for his pa to come rescue him, not for the first time, but he knew that was a forlorn hope.

A paw wrapped around his tail again, and he mooed under his breath as he felt it drawn up tight. The heat approached, making his crack sweat and his sore cheeks flex madly, but it didn't approach them right away. Instead he felt the burning approach his sensitive tailhole, the heat becoming increasingly painful, as the glowing end of the brand teased his pucker. The heat travelled slowly down his crack, making his taint quiver in panic before settling agonisingly close to his balls.

"Course' we could always start with some fried prairie oysters first couldn't we deputy?"

"No! Please!"

"What's that little calf? Got something to say?"

"No!"

"Hmm damn shame that. Damn shame."

The bull felt the burning heat move and he clenched his tailhlole preparing for the worst. When the searing pain came it was enough to draw a deep bellowing moo from him, but deep in that cry was a sense of relief as the star shaped brand connected with his left butt cheek, burning the sheriff's symbol into his brown furred ass but leaving his heavy balls alone for now.

"Next time calf, you won't be so lucky."

The sheriff had to hand it to the youngster, he was holding up pretty well all things considered. He wanted the information all right, but he didn't want it too easy, and the bull was putting up just the kind of fight he liked. As he contemplated what to do next, a soft purring noise coming from his muzzle, he had a sudden inspiration.

"Deputy, I think it might be time to let our two guests take part don't you?"

The doberman's chuckle was filled with appreciation. He could see where this might be going. He headed to the far end of the room, past the bound bull where he gave each tortured cheek an affectionate pat before continuing to the wall. Except there was no wall here, instead a series of bars which partitioned off the end of the room from the rest of the building.

Here a pair of prisoners had been watching the show with increasing interest. As they stood silent but wary, the deputy took out his ring of keys, unlocking the door and swinging it wide before standing back and pointing his shotgun nervously at the occupants. Both looked at him with studied indifference.

"Well you two, fancy having some fun and helping out the law? I can guarantee it will go well for you when you meet the judge, I will make sure of it?"

The taller figure stepped forward a bit, coming into the light enough that the straining bull could make him out as he bent his neck around to try and find out what new horror the sheriff had in store. He saw a big burly stallion, shire by the look, with a wicked grin plastered on his muzzle and a white blaze covering his nose. Otherwise he looked to be black; black fur, black mane and tail. Dark black eyes too, twin pools of mischief as he surveyed the young bull's exposed rear.

"Mebbe. Looks like he could be fun. What'ya say Rocky?"

A grey wolf stepped out of the darkness, standing beside his taller companion with a similar evil smirk on his muzzle.

"Sounds good to me. Let us out sheriff and we'll do what you want."

The lion motioned to the Doberman, who stepped back at command but gave occasional questioning looks to his leader as he did, and the two prisoners walked calmly from the cell.

"These two have been here three days little calf, but boy they have been eager the whole time. Going at each other like jackrabbits every night, you never saw such a thing. They like to wrestle a bit, playful like, to see who gets to be the mammy and who the pappy. Think the horse is ahead just. They aint gonna need any wrestling with you though son. No siree. Thought they might like a bit of variety before they get shipped off to the court in Frederickstown."

As the two entered the room, the sheriff moved his seat, resting it against the wall with a good view of the bull's rump, revolver casually pointed at the freed prisoners, while the deputy moved his to the far wall near the bull's head, his shotgun also marking the two. Both had a ringside seat for the next stage.

"Please!"

"Gonna let me in on your secrets there Georgie?"

The bull merely whimpered.

"Well, carry on men. Enjoy your reward."

George tried again to break free, but he was bound too well and the bonds were too strong. He knew from experience that the table was firmly bolted to the floor and try as he might he couldn't rock enough to break the metal. Before he could do too much damage, he felt a rough hand on his ass, and another gripping his tail tuft, pulling his length taut and stretching the skin of his taint from the base of his tail to his scrotum.

He heard a loud hucking spit, the equine behind him coating his fingers with saliva, before driving two blunt fingers into his spasming pucker. He bit his lip to stifle a cry as the horse chuckled softly to himself, sawing his fingers into the helpless bull deeper and deeper until he struck a spongy bull nut, drawing the supressed cry from George as he felt his joy buzzer fondled and probed.

"He's tight Rocky, you'll love him. I get first crack though."

"That's ok Hank. I've got better ideas."

The grey wolf had circled around to the bull's head, his paws on his trousers as he unbuttoned the fly to release a straining red wolfcock. He pressed the tip against George's muzzle, slapping it against his lips when the bull refused to open them and just clamped them shut.

"Looks like he doesn't want to Hank."

Pain exploded in the bulls balls, the stallion squeezing hard without warning. He opened his muzzle to scream but instead choked as he felt a thick wolfcock invade his muzz, driving to the hilt in one thrust. He was about to bite down hard on the invader when he heard a growl from the wolf.

"Don't even think about it mate or Hank there will crush your balls into paste."

George could only raise his eyes to look pleadingly at the wolf before resigning himself to the humiliation, his lips working up and down the thick shaft as the wold gripped his horns to urge him on. Bitter wolf cum surged from the tip, a thick spray of precum filling his muzzle with unfamiliar tastes and he had to fight not to gag as the horny wolf muzzlefucked him without pause.

The stallion chuckled again, enjoying the sight of his partner using the bull, the wolf's face screwed up in the cutest expression of pure bliss as the young bull serviced his cock. The bull was struggling a little, the wolf thrusting harder until his swelling knot passed those inexperienced lips, filling the bull's muzzle and making it harder for him to control the fuck, a line of bull drool flowing down Rocky's cock, across his furry balls and onto the floor.

Hank enjoyed the scene for a minute, then turned his attention to the bull's cute pucker. It was quite a sight, the cutest pucker he had seen, tight little crinkly pink rosebud between two massive muscled cheeks, the awkward position spreading the bull wide and opening his crack to a wanton exploration. And the stallion explored, his fingers tracing the little clenching ring, now slick with saliva, and down his quivering taint to fondle the dancing bull balls in their heavy low hanging sack. His smile became broader as he saw a growing length poking below those balls, the fondling causing the appalled bull to become shamefully erect, his bull cock pointing to the floor as it filled inexorably with blood.

Unable to wait any longer, he gave his mate a quick wink and a significant glance, before dropping his own trousers and lining up his thick flared tip with the bull's rosebud.

"Remember...no biting down no matter how much it hurts."

These words registered on George's straining mind just in time as he felt the walls of his poor ass violated by an impossibly big horsecock, the blunt end battering inside and spreading his ring and anal walls painfully wide. The stallion never wavered though, rocking his hips gently back and forward, driving new inches inside the pained bull only to pull back, leaving him hoping against hope for an ending as just the tip remained inside, before driving in deeper again.

It took long minutes for the stallion to spear his ass with the full length of his cock, each inch burning its way inside George's tight hole. He thought there could be no pain worse, until he felt the thick medial ring of the stallion spread him even wider, the pain making him see stars. Still the stallion drove in, until with one final thrust he felt a pair of heavy orbs resting against his own, his ass fully conquered by the prisoner.

He would have cried then, his defences almost done, if not for a slight shimmy of the stallion's hips, a lewd intentional play inside his ass, the stallion seeking out his target with expert touch until with a shallow thrust he jammed the flare of his enormous cock into the bull's nut. A new sensation exploded through George then, pure ball clenching pleasure, and he mooed around the leaking wolfcock in his muzzle as he felt the stallion ram into his sensitive nub over and over again, amused nickers accompanying each new thrust.

The two prisoners took their time then, enjoying their new playmate for their own reasons, careful to back off whenever it appeared they might be close to orgasm. A steady stream of wolf pre filled the bull's muzzle, until he craved the taste of wolfseed, and his ass pulsed around the invading horsecock, his battered prostate so close to throwing him over the edge of a hard cum. His bullcock leaked a line of pre onto the floor, a small pool forming on the rough wood as the fuck went on, and George could only beg inside for blessed orgasmic release as he was used.

As his eyes scanned the room as much as he could spitroasted by the prisoners, he spied the deputy and the sheriff, both now openly jacking their cocks, their expressions glazed as they took their pleasure from the hot orgy in front of them and the poor young bull's rough deflowering. He saw them both jacking harder now, paws moving faster as both law officers headed for their own climaxes.

The deputy went first, and George saw the Doberman's eyes lose focus, rolling back in his head as his doggy cock unleashed a fountain of thick cream into the air before it splattered on the floor with a loud thud. Just as the scent of doggy seed hit his nostrils, he heard the lion roar out his own orgasm, a fresh sickly scent mixing with the first.

"Now?"

"Now!"

Before he knew what was happening, he felt the twin cocks pulled from him fast, their withdrawal painful and leaving him strangely empty. Grunts and cries echoed in the room, and he shook his head to clear it of the sex mist that had engulfed him, trying to work out what was happening.

He broke into a deep chuckle as he realised what had happened.

The wolf had moved like lightning, and before the distracted deputy could raise his shotgun, he had been knocked out by a swinging blow from the wolf. Over by the side wall, the stallion had taken care of the sheriff, the lion mewling in pain as the horse shut his own cuffs on his wrists and kicked him in the ribs for good measure.

"Nice fellas. Very nice."

"Thanks cutie. Shame to miss out on finishing in your ass though. Perhaps we might continue hey?"

"Um, how about untying me?"

The wolf and the stallion were standing together now, the two lawmen disarmed and helpless for the moment, as they eyed up the bull trussed out before them. Both had that wicked smirk, the one he remembered when he first saw them. It made the fur stand up on his back.

"Guys?"

"Well, that kinda depends mate. See, we need somewhere to lie low too, and your pa is fairly famous in these parts. We wouldn't mind joining him see, and perhaps sharing the gold. Fair payment for returning his only calf, wouldn'tcha say?"

"Guys, no, really, he would never allow it, damn he would kill me if I brought arghhhhhh!"

Goerge couldn't finish his sentence as he felt hands on him now, fondling his taint, playing with his gaping hole. A hole now clenching with a sudden need for horsecock, and an unfulfilled need to cum. The wolf teasingly jacked his length, drawing frantic moos and cries from the embarrassed bull.

"Course, we could always leave you here like this..."

Gulping and nodding, George could only agree to their terms while he worked out how to make this right without his pa turning him into hamburger.

"Excellent. Now, time we got going eh?"

Once he was freed, the bull pulled them over to one corner, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper.

"No, its too late. We need daylight, at least when we get to Humphrey's gap or we will miss the trail."

"Fair enough, that gives us a few hours. We can go around 4 am, and hit the Gap just as the sun is rising. Time enough to put distance between us and cover our tracks on the Green river. Besides...I have an idea what we can do while we wait...."

*****

The three lonely figures rode swiftly over the plain. The sun was just rising, casting its orange glow over their little group, one bull, one wolf, one stallion. They shared a few words, but mostly stayed quiet, the two escaped prisoners following the bull warily as he led them towards the gap in Murphy's ridge that led after many more turns, to his pa's secret hideaway.

As they rode, the two apologised to him, reminding him that they had let him free, and that they had only done what they did as a way of getting the lawmen to drop their guard. George knew different though, or at least he knew it wasn't the whole truth. He had felt what they were doing, and he knew they enjoyed it.

Trouble was, the young bull had enjoyed it too. When they pulled out of him, he had been so distraught, he knew he needed it again. His tailhole itched, and it needed horsecock deep inside to feel satisfied. He had wondered for a while, now he knew. He was that sort of bull.

Just like his pa.

As they trotted into the foothills, he pondered what would happen when they got to their destination. His pa would need a lot of convincing, and he would not be happy at all that these two had deflowered his calf. If he knew his pa, he knew that one day when they least expected it, these two would find themselves on the receiving end of some rough treatment in recompense for his pains.

He knew his dad liked wolves, so Rocky would be his obvious choice. The young bull didn't mind, as long as he got Hank. The thought of what he would do to that cocky stallion made him break into a grin, one that waxed and waned as he worked out whether he wanted to fuck him or ride his cock more. Both probably, not that Hank would have much say.

Besides, after last night, he now had some more experience of what he wanted to do, and he owed it to these two.

*****

Back in town, an irate German Shepherd walked purposefully up to the sheriff's station and banged on the door, hard. He kept it up, anger growing with each passing second, but no response came. He was about to storm off in disgust, his anger at losing three horses from his stable to thieves overnight boiling into a towering rage, when he decided to try the window by the back wall.

Finding a small step ladder, he placed it carefully by the wall and rose to the window to see what in hell's name was going on. What he saw however made him fall off the stepladder, coming to a halt in a pile of dust on the ground before he ran into the main street hollering for help. A group of citizens came to his aid, and with the assistance of tools from the general store, they managed to break down the locked door and barge inside.

They found them both inside, barely conscious and moaning softly into makeshift gags made from their own bandanas. The deputy had been shackled to the bars of the cell, his wrists attached to the crossbar near the ceiling, his legs spread painfully wide and his ankles cuffed to vertical bars near the floor. He was whimpering, mumbling incoherently and begging. His tail had been tied upright and tethered to a collar around his neck, and his clothes cut off. His tailhole gaped wide open, the lips red and sore, as a constant stream of seed dripped from its mouth, over his taint and down to cover his hairy scrotum in a thick sticky paste before dripping to the floor.

A wide pool of cum rested under him, part from the overflow from his ass, and part from his own repeated emissions, his cock still achingly hard, tied off behind his scrotum at the base with a loop of wire, the red flared length now so sensitive an unsuspecting fly that landed on it's tip during the night had been caught in a spontaneous emission and drowned before it hit the floor.

As hard as it was to believe, he was probably the lucky one.

The sheriff was tied down to the table, his head rocking slowly side to side. He too had a wide open gaping hole, and a trail of cum leaking from an ass now stubbornly refusing to close. A similar long trail of seed flowed over his taint, cupping his balls and dripping to the floor, joining a similar puddle of lion seed from his own hyperexcited cock. There were slight differences here though. First, on it's path to the wooden floorboards, his trail of seed covered two livid black markings, where the shape of a one inch star had been branded into the lion's taint and the back of his scrotum. It was this last keepsake from the bull that finally pushed him into unconsciousness. Second, the stream was a little thinner, probably due to the unusual plug in the lion's ass. Poking from his violated hole, a long lit cigar lazily wafted a stream of smoke towards the ceiling, a final gift from the stallion.

Hank hated smoking.

As the two traumatised lawmen huddled together in their own station after being freed, struggling to come to grips with the many pains and unwanted pleasures given to them that night by cocks, tongues and fingers bent on revenge, they turned their thoughts to the escapees and wished them the same fourfold.

A hundred miles away, a young bull smiled, not knowing that some of his ideas for the wolf and the stallion echoed the thoughts of the Doberman and the lion they had left behind. The three figures passed into the gap, leaving the plains for the moment, and he shifted his position in the saddle to try and stop the itching burn in his tailhole making him even hornier than he was. He gave a soft click, and his mount broke into a trot, heading for the mountains, home, and a new life with new pleasures.

Maybe being caught wasn't so bad after all.