Sixes Wild: Manifest Destiny

by Tempe O'Kun

  For a long while, I try to sort out my feelings on all this. That fails. I grumble and set to cleaning my gun. Just as well I got half a mountain’s worth of dirt in it; got nothing better to do than clean it with my little kit. The doctoring foxes gave Harding and Blake orders to keep watch and keep me in bed. Charlotte scrubbed my fur to the skin, which I didn’t mind much, save for it being mildly humiliating. What I did mind was her dressing me in a lady’s slip and dressing gown. I’m too maimed to get out of it and, much as it shames me to say it, I’m starting to take a shine to how soft it feels against me.

  I’d feel a complete namby-pamby if Blake hadn’t bought me this new gunbelt and a box of bullets. Fancy ones from back East, not the shoddy backwoods reloads I sometimes resort to. They look watertight enough to fire from the bottom of Skull Creek. I fill out the loops of the gunbelt, throw five in my now-clean gun, and even have a few left over. Makes a bunny wish she had another gun to put them in…

  Day turns to evening, turning the brasses and browns of Harding’s spare room to fires and ambers. Blake comes in, relieving Harding of his watch over me. The bloodhound slips through the house just long enough to give me a tip of the hat and is gone. I figure he’s got duty.

  I lift my ears to the fruit bat. “What’s the scuttlebutt, lawbat? Not often mines explode twice in the space of a month.”

  Closing the door, he pauses. “I don’t suppose you need to hear such things in your condition.”

  “I do suppose. Tell me.”

  “You’ve got to promise me you won’t do something foolish.”

  “Fine.”

  “Hayes is alive and has your other gun.”

  I snatch my gunbelt off the nightstand and struggle up.

  Blake stops me with the tip of one wing. “You doing something foolish?”

  I lose my balance and flop back against the pillow, but fight my way back up. “No.”

  He stops me with his wingtip again. “You fixing to go someplace?”

  I stay sitting, but am more than a touch precarious. I growl at my own weakness. “Hayes’ place. I reckon to visit all manner a’ unpleasantness on him and his.”

  He looks at me steady. “Six, you need to lie low. Right now, Hayes thinks you’re dead. That gives you an advantage. You go in shooting up the place and that’s going to change.”

  “The lion has my gun, Blake. That needs seein’ to.”

  “I’m not saying it doesn’t. But if you go in half-cocked, you’re going to get killed.”

  I try crossing arms, but it only halfway takes. “I’d beef Hayes.”

  “You might at that. You’re fast. But you’re not up to snuff at the moment, and Hayes has shown he’s inclined to run if things turn south on him.”

  “Yellower ‘an a marmot, that’s for sure.”

  “You figure you can deal with his men in the middle of my town?”

  “Reckon ah might.” I bite my lip a little.

  “Seeing as I’m the one who’d have to clean it all up after, I’d take it as a kindness if you didn’t.” His muzzle stays steady, but his voice gets real soft.

  “Alright, but only as a kindness to you.” I pat his wing. “And only ‘cause you admitted to those fools ah was your man, sugar bat.”

  He stews at this.

  “Oh, iron out yer muzzle, batty. I was only joshin’ ya. Does bring up a pressing point, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, lawbat…” I droop my ears, fiddling with the tip of one in what I hope’s an alluring fashion. “You figure ya got a little time to be my man?”

  “Hmm… maybe.” He picks up my ear and leans in, but stops just before he kisses it. He flashes me a smile with that funny foxy muzzle. “You sure I won’t break what’s left of you?”

  My strength goes and I tip forward, burying my muzzle in his chest fur to keep from falling down. “I’m of sterner stuff presently than you’ll ever be, lawbat.”

  Taking me in his wings, he kisses me soft on each flopped ear and lays me back against the bed like I’m something real fragile. Makes a bunny warm under the fur to be handled like that, even if it is wholly unnecessary. He sits back on the bed and I watch, fascinated, as he undresses. First he slips out of his vest, then he sits, legs crossed ‘yote style, undoing his belt and gunbelt with those fancy hind paws of his. Here I am laid up, missing the chance to see just how he gets his pants off without a hare’s help. I find I can’t even sit back up at this particular moment, so I wait for my moment. Once he’s got his fly unbuttoned, I snake my hind paw out from under the sheets and into the front of his trousers.

  He squeaks in surprise, wings sweeping against my leg. “Six! What are you doing?”

  “Oh, quit yer belly-achin’. I’m just checkin’ to see everything’s where I left it, is all.” I wiggle my toes down his fuzzy belly to his sheath and sac before wiggling back up and starting over again. My toes bump along the head of his penis, just poking out of its sheath, then play briefly with his sac, but he squeaks the loudest of all when I get up higher and wiggle my claws against the tender flesh of his belly.

  “Stop that!” His wings stroke along my calf, ruffling the fur. “Six, it’s tickling me something dreadful!”

  “Well, you’d best get those britches off or I’ll do it more.” I slip down again and grip my toes on his sheath to show I’m serious.

  “Ah! Just give me a second, Six.” He hooks his wing thumbs into the waist of his trousers and pulls them off. “There.”

  “Good.” I smile at the pink tip I see peeking up from between his legs. “Come on up here, lawbat, and be mindful of my arm.”

  Climbing up the bed, he eases around my sling, straddling over my chest. His balls rest between my breasts and his half-ways sprung erection bumps me in the nose.

  “Oops.” His ears drop. “Sorry.”

  I laugh. “Blake, I got all manner a’ plans for this thing, but that wasn’t one of ‘em.” Nonetheless, I nuzzle in against his tip with great vigor. It’s real warm and slightly damp. He squeaks.

  All the way out of his sheath now, his member bumps against my cheek. I wrap my good paw around it, then start caressing it all gentle. He stiffens up in a hurry, even with me only halfways knowing what I’m doing. My ears drop at how distracted and darling he looks. I want to do something nice for him, like how he always kisses my ears. Then I get a naughty idea…

  Without giving him a word of warning, I grab one of my ears and curl it around his shaft. Boy, does that get the ol’ boy’s attention. Poor thing is just staring down at me with those wide brown eyes as I start to rub. I work my floppy ear over the hard, hot surface, every ridge and bump translating through to my fingers. Feels right funny, and more than a little scandalous. The good sheriff shivers and swoons like he’s getting the vapors.

  Now that I’m sure the both of us are enjoying this, I get a touch more vigorous. I work the pink of my ear harder against his stiff penis, slipping from head to base, picking up heat as I go. I rub it over the tip as well, slicking myself up with his juices, though it ain’t the only place I’m feeling a tad moist presently. I work it like a polishing cloth, pressing his length down against my chest. I even dare give the head a couple kisses when it pokes through. He seems to cotton to this, if his moaning is to be believed and he even squirms a little extra against my bottom lip.

  On instinct, I lick the clear droplet off my lip before it can run under my chin and to my fur. It’s salty and a touch musky, though mostly it just tastes like Blake.

  I lick the head again and he shudders, stroking my head fur with his wings. The soft velvet of their insides brushes my cheeks. Feels right agreeable to this hare.

  “Blake?”

  Panting, he looks down through the tent of tender wings he’s pitched over me. “Yeah?”

  I rub a little more at his shaft, working through the words to say. Goes without saying he didn’t mind the hold-up. “…’Fraid you’ll have to walk me on the lead rope. My tongue ain’t trav
eled the miles yours has.”

  His muzzle snaps closed, like he’s embarrassed about the tongue he had lolling out like a hound dog’s. “Well… I reckon… just lick on it and such… Don’t have to do anything too fancy, just be careful about it; it’s the only one I got.”

  I chuckle on this a bit, then lick him some more. He seems keen on that. I’ve heard tell of gals sucking on their menfolk, or their menfolk-of-the-moment. Blake told me to take care, but I reckon, so long as I keep my teeth out of the way, there shouldn’t be a problem. Letting my warm, wet ear drop, I kiss the taut surface of his head a little more, then I guide him on in.

  First thing I notice is the heat. It was warm against my ear, but it is hot inside my mouth. I feel the weight, the heft of it. I trace my tongue around, feeling every little vein and surface. Hot liquid pools on the back of my tongue and I swallow it before I think about it. Then it hits me: I’ve actually got a fella’s penis in me. Granted it’s only in my muzzle, but I intend to see about putting it elsewhere soon enough. The thought makes me giddy.

  “Why in blue blazes are you giggling around my…my…?”

  I pull him out for a moment, inspecting how he looks with a coat of my saliva. “Could be ya just taste funny.”

  “Oh, ha-ha. You’re an ace-high wit, Six Shooter.”

  “Hush now. No need to get contrary.” I play with his sack of gold nuggets, wishing my other arm didn’t hurt so I could explore the lawbat easier. Nothing makes a gal appreciate something like having it wrecked for a while. I don’t care to think too much on what this could be likened to, so I return to stroking that fine length of bat in front of me, stroking and kissing it.

  This is getting me riled like nobody’s business and I start rubbing my thighs together, pressing the lips of my lady bits together. Seeing this, Blake leans back and rubs his wing right under my dressing gown and against my folds. His shifting hurts my shoulder, but it feels right delightful so I get a touch conflicted. He keeps it up and ‘fore long I am too distracted to stroke him proper. Pressing my muzzle down on his erection, I moan. “Oh, Jordan… Jordan, please… I need… I mean ah feel…”

  He smiles down at me. I see what I was going to ask already in his soft brown eyes. I blush and nod. He climbs off of me, careful and slow. Fading sunlight washes over his fur as he passes the window’s light, shimmering each hair in shades of bronze, like a perfect statue. At the foot of the bed, he parts my knees with gentle wings. His muzzle dips down, licking down the insides of my thighs. Real slow and soft. Over and over. Just about when I think I’ll go plum crazy, he gives a lick right up my nether lips. I squeak like a prairie dog. My lil’ clit’s throbbing and my hips keep trying to buck. He licks again and I bite down on my good paw to keep from squealing. Deeper and deeper he’s lapping ‘til my muscles are clenching and writhing inside my belly.

  Then he pulls back, that wondrous pink tongue licking his lips like he just had the juiciest apple of his life. I get cross with him for stopping, scowling for a spell ‘fore I realize why I sent him down there in the first place. I bite a little tighter on my knuckle.

  He climbs up between my legs, steadying himself on his wings. Bat ears flop down, all sweet and shy, like he’s nervous too. His stiff length is bumping around down there, glancing off my vagina more than once and making me whimper. I try reaching down to sort things out, but wince back as my shoulder pulls. Pain blooms through my arm. I feel a touch on my free paw. I open my eyes to find him holding it gentle-like with his wing thumb. All tender, he slides my paw back up to my tummy, patting it a couple times just to say ‘stay put.’ Then he moves that same wing down and takes hold ‘a his penis, rubbing the head against my entrance. He works a ways inside, spreading me. Can’t help but gasp. I feel tingly all over, both from pleasure and nerves. I hear it’s supposed to hurt a woman’s first time. Setting my teeth, I brace myself.

  But it doesn’t. It’s full-feeling, powerful full, but no pain compared to my damn shoulder. He pushes in, though, and things get a pinch tight. The thin layer of spit on his length gives a touch of chill, but after that it’s warm, warm as I am. Looking down, I see he’s about halfways in. Feels right nice, though I feel real glad he wasn’t a stallion. This is plenty big. I catch a look of his face, his fine-muzzled foxy face, and see him look a touch pained, like I ain’t making it too easy for him either. I try to breath deep and ease off with my inner muscles. I haven’t done too much with them ever on purpose before, mostly letting them act on their own accord. Even when I take a little time by my lonesome, I mostly work along the outward parts. But, by an’ by, my womanly parts and I reach a nice little understanding though, and opt not to crush poor Blake any further. I try and take it easy. Ain’t nothing impossible here; other gals get their fields plowed regularly and they seem to fancy it fine. And from the pleasure spreading out from my passage, I’m starting to see why. My eyes close.

  Further and further I feel him pushing, to places I wasn’t too aware I had, ‘til Blake finally stops. I open my eyes again. His hips are pressed flush with mine. My muscles clench in little ripples up his length. My breathing speeds up. The flying fox pulls back just as slow, leaving more and more of me empty. I give a pitiable little squeak and arch up under him, but he just presses down one soft wing on my hip. I ease back down onto the bed. Next time, I am being the rider in this dog and pony show.

  Blake works up a rhythm, slow in, slow out. Instinct tells me to hump my hips up at him, but I seem to throw him off when I do this. Seems I’m in need of some practice, ‘need’ the linchpin there. The bat gets on his wings around me. He slips in and out of me. I ain’t never felt so… full in my life. Little wet noises follow his movements. He speeds up. My breasts bounce like I’m on a galloping pony. I clench harder on him, losing hold of the reins. I can feel my juices seep out into the fur of my rump, even advancing so far as my tail. Blake thrusts harder into me to get past my clutching. His breath washes over me.

  I grab him by the chest fur.

  I go off like dynamite.

  My feet thump against the mattress, kicking up swirls of dust. My passage working over and around his length in wonderful ways, shipping delicious feeling all over my body. After wiggling around like a bunny possessed under his weight, I ease back, catching my breath. Aftershocks rumble through my loins now and again, wringing me like a cloth for pleasure. Once I can do more than squeal and writhe, I let go of the poor fella’s chest fur. He gazes down at me. I can see the evening light glow through his thin ears, coloring it with his flesh. Still hard and inside me, his panting lips meet mine. That little sly tongue of his weasels into my mouth. I moan around it as he mines for my pleasure from both angles.

  As the kiss trails off, Blake redoubles his efforts, thrusting into me with all his batty might. My lips feel more than a mite tender, swollen with tingly glory and dragged back and forth against the hot texture of his shaft. My hips rock against the bed as his thrusts get all fitful. I rub along his wings and shoulders, breathing his name like air itself. Those gold-flecked eyes meet mine, then squeeze shut as his teeth grit. He shudders deep inside me, and a peculiar warmth builds in spurts within me. The lawbat trembles in my arms. Looks just darling. I cup his cheek in my unsteady paw, feeling it move as he whispers my name in return.

  And it’s just now I decide this whole having a fella deal might not be so bad.

  * * * * *

  Blake lies curled up beside me, dreaming his sweet little bat dreams. His velvety wings feel real nice against me. Between them and the soft sheets and the beat of his heart, wild notions start taking shape. For a moment, I even contemplate staying around and wearing fine things and enjoying the good sheriff’s company in a number of ways. But that’s all bosh; even if I wanted to stay, Hayes knows I’m a woman. Some feisty bunnygirl shows up on the sheriff’s wing, he’d have to be nuttier ‘an a squirrel turd not to spot me. No, this ain’t the time and I ain’t the type.

  Nice as it feels, I slip my sore body out from under his
wing. Looking back, I see him sleeping there, all wings and ears, his muzzle buried in the pillow where my scent is strongest. If I’m any kind of reasonable, I’ll steal a pony and ride until I got to where nobody had ever heard of Tanner Hayes. No way that lion will think to look for a dead bunny in the wild peaks of Montana.

  I’m a trifle unsteady, but I find my way around. Despite the bum arm, I get dressed, strap on my boss new gunbelt, and set two pieces of metal and one of paper on the nightstand. I lay a gentle kiss on Blake’s fuzzy cheek and then, like the last glint of the moon at daybreak, I’m gone.

  One paw reaches behind me, feeling the silver gun I traded an entire mine for.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  I sit.

  My claws dig furrows in the dry soil. The desert rolls on in all directions around me. I shake more dust from my mane.

  Morris is long gone. So is most of my money. Sources in White Rock saw him and that old hare driving a wagon out with all the ore we’d refined. I sent my few remaining men after them, but I won’t be surprised if they desert me entirely. Those two must’ve been playing me from the start. Did the ore ever do all they said? Would it have gotten me the town, the territory, my rightful empire?

  The ore’s gone; the mine’s gone; my easy road to power is gone.

  How’d this all get away from me so fast? Perhaps the ore had more effect on me than I had thought.

  Best not to go back to my house or the office too soon. Might be an ambush. Mary Elizabeth’s left me anyhow, leaving a hollow I didn’t expect. Anger tries to rise there, but it just tumbles back into the depths. Much as I cursed her barrenness, her gossiping, her constant pining for the lost comforts of back east, I never once considered she was in some way dear to me as gold, elevating me above the rabble here in the Frontier since so few manage to procure and keep a wife. Females get thoughts above their station out here, far from civilization.