Under the scorching sun walked dozens of dozens of people, the town abuzz with life and song. A tailor rests inside his shop, reading the latest issue of dirty illustrations the local pervert was selling. The scorching sun turned his workshop into an oven, and often he refreshed himself using the handmade magazine as a fan. Lost looking at the impossibly massive tits of a negress in the drawings, he didn’t notice loud, determined steps coming towards his store.

The door slammed open with a force that reverberated through the old wood, scattering items from the shelves onto the ground and scaring the poor tailor out of his mind, reclining on his chair until he fell backwards.

“Who the hell do y-” He gathered himself and stood up slowly, gun in hand, ready to shoot however made such a fuss.

To his surprise, the customer was none other than Lady Houshou Marine, daughter of Mr. Houshou Hiroshi, a japanese trader that had set foot decades ago and that now was the owner of plenty of land and livestock. Lady Marine, donning a red dress that exposed her shoulders, and a smug demeanor that shone through her lips, approached the counter of the store.

Standing up straight in presence of what was essentially the western royalty, the tailor hid the magazine under the desk and greeted his customer with exaggerated politeness, not wanting to disgrace her with rude mannerisms.

“L-Lady Marine!” He spoke. “Wh-What can I do for you? I-Is this about your old man’s suit?”.

Please, please don’t let it be about the suit. He just couldn’t resist making the stitches looser at the buttocks. After that pompous asshole called his work second class he just had to be petty.

Had the envoy been different, so would’ve been his luck. Marine wasn’t here to complain about the suit of her father, she was here to demand a pair of jeans and a leather jacket.

“J-Jeans? Bu…. But lady, women don’t go ‘round wearing no-”

“I have the money.” She glared.

“B-But-”

“Is that a no?”

“O-Of course not!” He

In a flash and having at his machines, Marine walked out with a pair of blue jeans, a shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a tall cowboy hat.

The passerby looked at her in awe, not only because a woman of her steem in this part of town, by herself now less, was a rare sight, but because she carried herself with an exaggerated swagger in a man’s clothes. It was the greatest act of clownery ever seen in the wild west.

With that, Marine headed towards her destination.

Bitter springs.

~*~

An old, shabby, and supposedly abandoned shack laid atop of a plateau. The orange sky reflected on her heterochromic eyes, beaming with determination. The determination to catch a dangerous outlaw that went by the name of Anon Ymous. Rumors had lended her some leverage on his position, now all that was left was a course of action.

In and out. Simple as.

She strutted towards the hut, scenic tumbleweeds rolling about, helping her get lost in her role of a lawbringer. To her hip, her papa’s revolver, on her back, a sack that served no purpose.

There she stood, right outside the shack and knocked on the door -Not too loudly, she didn’t want to disturb him- but received no answer.

Figuring she had to state her position and her intentions, she cleared her throat and yelled.

“Anon! This’s, Sheriff Houshou! I’ve… come! For you!” She spoke to nobody, the scorching winds were beginning to dig between her skin and her clothes, and she realized just how hot it is to wear jeans and a jacket in the middle of the desert.

“I-If you don’t come out with your co- with your hands up! I’ll come in!”

No response was heard from the hut.

All right, here she goes!

She kicked in the door with great force, and only hurt her foot. The bolt was locked, and way too strong for the strength of a delicate upper class girl. After taking her foot out of the boot and massaging it to make the pain subside, she was set on making Anon pay. She took her papa’s gun from her hip, by which I yours truly, the narrator, mean that she took the gun still encased in the holster. A simple leather string prevented her from drawing her gun, and after shrugging it off, she aimed at the door knob, right where she thought the bolt would be.

Her hands trembled at first, but as it is known, the first rule of gun safety is to close your eyes and look away as you shoot, so after a deep breath, Marine pulled the trigger.

A horrible ringing buzzed in her ears. Gunshots sure are loud. But the door was open! At the cost that daddy’s leather gun holster now had a scorching hole at the bottom.

Happy with the results, Marine put the holster around her waist, and burned her thigh at the freshly fired cannon as soon as it touched her jeans.

No time for any more mishaps, she thought, and she set foot inside the hut.

“A-Anon….!...?” She spoke into the empty rooms. A gripping fear had laid its hands on her shoulders, and caused her to shiver at nothing.

But… she had to do it. It was the natural conclusion, it’s what she needed!

So, first one of her legs stepped inside confidently like a whore doing a show, wanting to make an entrance. At her feet, she felt a cord snap.

“Eh?” She muttered, before a loud gunshot exploded to her left, scaring her shitless out of her senses. Falling on her butt, she saw the bits of chipped wood falling out the other end of the building, and the setting sun peeked inside the shack through the newly formed hole.

“Eh!?” She panicked. Anon! That bastard! He was waiting to ambush her the whole damn time!

She grabbed her papa’s revolver and rushed inside fearlessly, too much for her own good.

“Alright, I’ve got you now! Put your hands… up?”

She looked at her feet and saw a rusty, barely functional bear trap right under her foot. The gadget’s poor condition gave her just the necessary time to jump away, and accidentally fall onto an old shelf.

All she saw was a single shotgun on top of a table, rigged with strange wires and contraptions, but no one to shoot it. Anon was nowhere to be seen!

Adrenaline rushing through her veins, Marine became eloped with her second encounter with danger, and in a cocky gesture, she took off her hat and smugly laughed as she relished her delightful victory…!

…Right before a bottle of whiskey fell on her head and knocked her out cold. She fell face first, with her ass right up in the air, and the hat? Oh, it landed on top of her butt.

~*~

It had been an uneventful evening, not to say unsuccessful. That word brings back luck.

The caravan was supposed to pass by the road you were hiding at, but in the end you just lazed around on top of a tree with nothing to do. That intel that that jackass Remy had given you, just where did he get it?

Either way, the sun was setting, your body ached for rest. You headed on over to the old raggedy shack you had settled in a couple weeks ago, and immediately noticed from afar that the door was slightly ajar.

“Shit!” You screamed, reaching for your trusty Winchester on your back.

First you approached the shack from behind to check that- Yup! Your horse, Calli, is still there, God bless her, your only true partner in crime. So then, it was time for you to pay a little visit to whoever stepped in.

The contraption you had rigged to the door had been activated, but no traces of blood were anywhere near. Christ! Whoever came was prepared! You’re getting too predictable, too easy to read…

You stepped inside, your feet knowing the layout of your booby traps by heart. You aimed to and fro, until your eyes landed on a bulge that laid motionless in front of a shelf. The uniform was a dead giveaway, it was a sheriff. A slight smirk drew on your slips.

“So, I got ya’, huh?”

Your foot kicked the body in the butt to turn it over. Immediately the figure was a dead giveaway. Your gun lowered, your heart raced, and you realized that a poor, defenseless woman was knocked out on your floor.

…and a bottle of whiskey had been lost.

“What in the goddam?” You blurred out.

~*~

Once the moon had settled over the sky, in a candle lit room, you pondered your options. The sheriff of this town… was a woman? Who in their right mind would send such a cute little thing out for people like you? City must be desperate.

You tied her hands to her back just in case.

The rational course of action would be to end this woman, no witnesses.

You took out your knife and drew towards her neck, but your hand trembled like a child’s as you pointed the sharp steel.

“Ah… papa taught me better than to do a lady like this.” Unable to rob the world of a hot girl, your knife found its way back into your hip.

Then again, looks are deceiving, you know that by heart. Maybe this lady chewed nails for breakfast, maybe she was bait!

Wanting to clear your mind, you rolled a cigar and stepped out to smoke out in the frigid night right outside your makeshift home. Now that’s a sky!

What to do, what to do.

Meanwhile, Marine finally began regaining her consciousness. Bit by bit she was processing the situation. The dimly lit room threw her off for a second, a surprisingly romantic setting! What a kind bandit this Anon was. Then, she noticed her hands were tied behind her back.

A lecherous smile drew on her face, her cheeks blushed with a red hue, it was happening! It was happening!

Trying to make herself more appealing to her captor, she drew her lips downwards towards her shirt and bit one of the buttons there using her molars. With great force, she pulled and tore until her chest was mildly exposed to the eye. Ho-ho! Let’s see Anon resist this. The creaking door beckoned her to take her spot in the play, and so, she laid back in her original position, pretending to be knocked out while holding in her giggles.

You stepped back inside and headed towards your makeshift room, a couple of bed covers you took as souvenirs from a cloth trader being your bed. Next to it was the woman- wait, was that button torn all this time? Either way…

You could skip town and leave the sheriff where she was, perhaps showing mercy to her would land you a lighter sentence, should you ever be caught. But then again! You had to turn a profit! Whiskey and bullets ain’t cheap.

“Come on… come on…” Marine thought. The man was back, but her tits remained unfondled! Her holes remained unplugged!

“You…” Marine muttered. “W-What are you doing to do?” She spoke.

“Oh, you’re awake, how about that.”

“Free me at once!” She protested as her legs quivered.

“Sorry, no can do, but maybe we can work ourselves a deal.”

“A-A deal?!” Marine replied with an exasperated gasp. Such a straightforward man!

“Yup.” You took a sip from your flask, and poured some on the cap for the lady. It don't kill to be courteous to someone you need to talk things with. “I was thinking, maybe you can walk away and-”

“If it’s my body you want…”

“....huh?”

Tears flowed from Marine’s eyes down her cheeks, glistening under the candle’s warm orange glow. It wasn’t terror or reluctance, she just thought it would make her look cuter, and so she defied the laws of physiology out of pure horniness.

“No, no! Lady, please, I just really, really have to get your men out of my tail.”

“Then I guess I have no choice!” Marine looked at the outlaw, her ears deaf to his words. “My life… for my body…!”

“Missy I ‘ain’t trying to fuck you, I just need my freedom.” You spoke. Now the trance was broken, and Marine eyed you with both shock, and indignation.

“What?” She spoke.

“What you heard, missy.”

“But why?!”

“I’m a bandit, not a rapist.”

“But… but the rumors! The people around town said you had a big iron on your hip! A giant two handed cannon!”

“That I do.” You took your gun out of its holster, and let the sheriff get a good look at it.

“A gun? So you don’t have a massive cock?”

“...what?”

“I heard you left someone in a wheelchair!”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, that much’s true. That double crossing two faced lank wristed rattlesnake Benny.”

“A man!?” Marine yelled. “So you’re one of those too?”

“One of who?”

“This man… Benny, how did you leave him in a wheelchair?” Marine asked. She wasn’t really into it at first, but hearing how this man butt fucked another…

“That rat had it comin’, he tried to snitch me to the feds so I planted two shots at his hip, now them legs don’t work.”

“...oh….” Marine frowned.

“Lady, I don’t know what you heard about me, but we’ve gotta work out a deal here.”

“W-Why with me, specifically?”

“Oh now you’re pulling me by the hair, you’re sheriff, right?”

“Oh? Oh! No, no, this… uh, this is a costume.”

“...what?”

“....yeah….”

“Sugarplum, why on earth did you dress up like a sheriff and come after me? Had I not seen your face, I would’ve shot you on the spot!”

“I…. was kinda hoping that… you’d have your… way with me?” She struggled to look at him in the eye, the embarrassed blush and smile of her face not vanishing.

“I-What?”

“Yeah….”

“Honey, you’ve got me at sea. There’s more than just a couple loose screws up in your noggin’.”

Marine fumbled with herself.