Grab The Gun! (End)

The weasel leapt forwards for the gun at the same time Georgia began to race forwards, her huge footfalls booming down the aisle. Feeling warm steel under her fingers, Texas grabbed the gun and pulled herself up.

SMACK!

Georgia’s huge arm came swinging through as Texas rose up, backhanding the weasel in the chest. The gun spun from her grip as she flew through the air, eyes bulging, and slammed hard into the wall of the carriage, next to the door. The **** of the impact bounced her off like a ragdoll, and the limp weasel flopped down onto the green cushions of one of the passenger benches.

Lying on her back and groaning, the weasel’s eyes spun. It felt like she was just hit by a runaway carriage full of bricks, but the weasel knew she had to move. The rational part of her brain was screaming at her. Every second she stayed down was a second that Georgia could-

“Awww… you offerin’ me a seat, Tex? How kind!” Georgia’s voice boomed, and a shadow was cast over the weasel. As she looked up, she could see the hefty horse towering over her, and grinning down.

“G-georgia! Ah’m warnin’ you, ah-” The weasel’s words trailed off into a terrified squeak, the colour draining off her, as Georgia turned around, bringing Tex face-to-face with her ridiculously round rump. Georgia savoured the fear she could feel coming off the weasel for a brief moment, then wriggled her rear and slammed it down. With a screech and a squish, Texas was absolutely demolished beneath her nemesis’s ass, the immense weight flattening her out like dough and pressing her deep into the seat cushions. Grinning, Georgia ground her ass down, then put her feet up against the wall in front of her, making sure all of her weight was focused on the squashed sheriff.

“Tell those pigs not to rush with the safe.” She said to her feline underling, who retrieved her rifle and Tex’s pistol. “It’s five hours to the pickup point. Might as well take our time.” The cat nodded, then dashed off further into the train to spread the word, leaving the grinning Georgia behind.

“Alright boss! That’s the last of it! The gang’s here to pick us up!” A voice called. Georgia opened her eyes, then glanced out the window, seeing the rest of her bandits riding alongside the train with empty horses for them.

“Well, looks like our time together’s come to an end, Tex. You made a shitty sheriff, but a damn good cushion.” The huge horse grunted, putting her legs down, then slowly pushing herself up. With a sound like tape peeling off a wall, the mare rose up, the fabric of the seat sticking to her ass as she did so. When the last of it pulled free, Georgia turned around, grinning at the sight that awaited her.

Texas was flat. But so much more than that. For the last five hours she had had a twelve foot tall, obese mare using her spine as a seat cushion, constantly grinding, bouncing farting and, in this heat, sweating all over her. With that much heat, pressure and friction, the weasel had been squashed so flat that her body had practically merged with the seat, becoming stuck to the cushion at an atomic level, and flattened so much that she was almost entirely transparent. Currently, the seat bore a huge sweat stain in the shape of Georgia’s ass and, right in the middle of it, a very, very faint decal of a weasel sheriff.

Her eyes lighting up in delight, the horse reached down and picked up a bit of the seat, rubbing the fabric between her fat thumb and forefinger. She could feel no difference between the weasel and the seat. The mare’s grin widened, and an evil glint appeared in her eye.

“Well ain’t that somethin’... I don’t think you can actually get free of that, Tex! I think I might’a squashed you so hard that you’re stuck… permanently.” She said, relishing the word. On the seat, the flattened sheriff’s eyes darted around desperately, unable to move her body. Georgia laughed happily at the sight, but a shout from outside made her turn away. “Well, I’d love to stay and test you out further, sheriff seat cushion, but I’ve got places to be and gold to spend. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to tell every bandit in the west exactly where you are. Enjoy your new life, Tex!” The villain said, then turned and dashed off, leaving the whimpering weasel permanently stuck as a seat cushion, and facing a future full of nothing but butts.

Bad End: A Seat-able Replacement.