Grab The Revolver! (End)

Texas leapt for her sand-covered revolver just as Roxxie charged right at her. The weasel was a professional though, and effortlessly grabbed the pistol and rolled to her feet, aiming at the charging roo.

*Click*

Roxxie paused, surprised, then grinned and started to advance at a much more leisurely pace, Texas's eyes growing wide with fear as she desperately pulled the trigger of the jammed gun again and again.

*Click* *Click* *Click* *Cl-WHAM!*

Roxxie's massive, meaty fist slammed straight into the sheriff's stomach. The weasel squeaked in surprise and pain, her eyes bugging out of her head, then collapsed onto the ground, hugging her winded stomach. The beatdown had barely even begun, however, as Roxxie lifted a foot and slammed it down onto Texas's face again and again, trampling it flat with unmatched brutality, and quickly stomping the weasel into unconsciousness.

When she finally came to, the first thing the sheriff noted was the ungodly stench of manure permeating the air around her. She gagged and instinctively tried to struggle, but found that her wrists and legs were bound tightly with rope and stretched out into an X-shape. All at once, the weasel's senses returned to her, and she opened her eyes to be confronted with a truly horrifying sight: Butterscotch's filthy ass at point-blank range. As if knowing she was awake, the horse instantly blasted out a symphony of foul fumes right into Texas's face, causing her to whimper and struggle as she was sprayed with the foul muck clinging to the horse's butt.

From on top of the horse, Roxxie grinned and glanced back, seeing the weasel tied tight to her mighty steed's ass with coarse ropes. The stagecoach was nowhere in sight, but the saddlebags on Butterscotch seemed to be overflowing, a testament to another successful robbery. However, this time they had scored an even more valuable prize.

"Oi, look Butterscotch! Your new playmate has finally woken up. Why don't you give her some kisses?" She asked, and the horse whinnied happily in agreement, starting to blast out fart after fart in the weasel's face, making her scream and sob in disgust. Roxxie just smirked. "Better get used to those real quick, Sheriff, because when we get back, Roxxie's getting a new weasel fart cushion..." The sheriff opened her mouth to protest, but Butterscotch was waiting for that, and blew a powerful, dung-smelling cloud straight into her mouth, silencing her before she'd even spoken and knocking her out cold. Unable to fight back, the sheriff's fate was sealed as Butterscotch's newest cushion.

She didn't last long.