The sun was setting on a hot summer day as the wind howled around the empty Desert landscape. Tumbleweeds made their way across the vast sandy plane as a young wolf boy, named Woffen, rode his horse hard, a cloud of dust behind him. He was a young wolf, Black-gray fur, firm build, only 21, and had already made the biggest mistake of his life. He had joined up with a small gang of cattle rustlers and on his first job had been discovered by one of the young farm hands as they were leading they’re first cow out of the field. They made a break for it, getting on their horses and heading out into the desert. They were quickly pursued by a small group of mercenaries, hell bent to take them down and kill them for their crimes. Woffen knew this, and he knew that he had to get away. But luck was not on his side. His pursuers were hot on his heels, and his horse was starting to tire. He spurred it on harder and harder, but the horse would just not budge. In fact it started to fuss and stopped to buck Woffen off. He landed hard on his back as his horse started to gallop off. Woffen panicked and scrambled to his feet, but to no good as the mercenaries galloped and surrounded him. 

“Well well boy. Looks like your luck has run out,” the leader said, pointing his Winchester 1873 rifle down at him. He was another wolf, much more muscular, with a thicker mane, and gray fur with orange and white highlights around his muzzle, paws, and tail. “I will say though, you gave us quite the chase. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.” He then motioned to the other wolves in the group, A pair of them climbing off their horses, rope in hand, as they walked up to Woffen and began to tie him up. 

	“Wait! Please!I’m just a struggling young man! I just did this to feed my family,” Woffen said as he struggled against them. A quick punch to the back of his head silences him and the wolves continue to tie him up.

“You should have thought about that before you got in with a bunch of cattle rustlers, boy. We don’t like your kind around here and we have a way to deal with you,” The Stihl said, as Woffen was tossed up onto the back of one of the group’s horses. He then whistled loudly and urged his horse onward the others following him as they made their way to another part of the desert. Woffen whined as he struggled against the ropes and wiggled on the back of the horse, but another hit to the back of his head made him stop. 

Soon they all got to a small camp that other wolves had set up, the other rustlers there with them, all tied up and hanging from a nearby tree, dead. Woffen swallowed hard as he saw the former members of the group dangling there, faces blue, tongues hanging out of their mouths, and eyes rolled into the back of their heads. Clearly they had all been hung by the neck until dead, strangling to death. Woffen went white as he knew he was next, struggling again. 

Stihl hopped down from his horse and smiled, motioning for his crew to get Woffen ready. As they did, the others in the camp began to drop the others from the tree. Woffen struggled hard as the others moved over to the tree. 

	“Hey now! Look! You don’t have to do this! I’ll leave town! You’ll never hear from or see me again! Hell! Just leave me to walk in the desert! Anything is better than this,” He shouted out as he sat on top of the horse. He continued to whine as they draped another noose around his neck. 

“Again, you should have thought about your actions before you did them. We can’t let every whiny cattle rustler go, otherwise we’d be overrun with them. Have to make an example,” The Stihl said standing in front of Woffen. “Now, thief, for the crime of cattle rustling, I hereby sentence you to death, by hanging by the neck ‘till dead.” He then stepped aside and nodded to one of his guys. They nodded back and slapped the horse on the ass, which whinied loudly and bolted. 

“WAIT DONGULRK,” Woffen tried to say before his support left out from under him, tightening the noose around his neck. Woffen began to gag and choke loudly, the sounds echoing around the camp. Woffen gagged more as he convulsed and thrashed around, trying desperately to free himself and break the branch that held him. He struggled for several minutes as life slowly began to leave from his eyes. Stihl stood back in front of him and smiled as he watched the poor wolf struggle. He giggled and reached forward, opening Woffen’s pants and rubbing over his sheath and balls slowly. He cupped them in his hands and watched as the poor wolf’s cock slowly began to rise out his sheath. 

“Well, I may be a gun for hire, but I still can’t let you go without giving you the best orgasm of your life,” He said, smiling up at him. Woffen continued to struggle and fight against the rope as his body started to betray him. His cock soon rose to full height and was dripping pre cum as Sthil continued to play with it. Woffen let out a gagging moan as Sthil stroked his cock slowly and carefully, building up his orgasm. The poor hanging wolf’s heart beat fast as the panic he felt mixed with the pleasure he was feeling of pleasure. He was so conflicted about this. If he had been able to live longer he might do this more often, but he was soon getting close to both death and orgasm.

He let out several last gurgles of life as his eyes and they began to roll up into the back of his head. He let out a gurgling moan as he started to cum, his seed spilling out over Sthil’s hand. Just then one of the men jumped on and grabbed on to the poor wolf boy, weighing him down more. There was then a sickening crunch and snap as the sudden jerking snapped and severed his neck, leaving it only connected by the skin and muscles. Stihl nodded and smiled as he looked at the results. 

	“Well that’s dealt with then. Time to have dinner boys,” He called out. There was a load of howls around him as they set to work. They took the other three bodies and began to prepare them. The Stihl took special care with Woffen, carefully untying him from the tree and letting his body fall to the ground. He then undressed the body, throwing his clothes to the side to sell in town later.

He then took out his knife and began to cut off the wolf’s head, a much easier task now. Blood oozed out from the cuts as he worked, slowly flowing into the dirt below. He took Woffen’s head, eye rolled back in his head and tongue lolled out, and set it aside for later. He then smiled and started slicing the wolf's skin off his body, making slow and careful cuts so as to not ruin it, planning to turnin it and the head into trophies. It took him several minutes, but he soon peeled the skin and fur off the body. 

His next task was to gut the poor wolf. Stihl sunk his knife into the wolf's body, just above his crotch and slid the blade upward over his gut. He then pulled the muscle apart and began scooping out all his vicira. Intestines, stomach, pancreas,  pulled out and set to be buried. Liver, spleen, kidneys, lungs, and heart, all set aside to be made into a perfect organ soup. He even dug into the skull to pull out the brain to add it in as well.

Next came the stuffing. He had one of the others bring over the small bag of potatoes and carrots they had brought with them, along with some corn bread they had. He got to work, chopping up the vegetables and crumbling up the corn bread, spreading it all inside the now empty torso of the wolf. He then set to work poking holes for string and tying up the hole. 

The next thing was to get the body on a spit. He went to his saddle bags and pulled out several small poles, and began to screw them together, making the whole thing 8 feet long. Then with some help he pushed the pole into the now loose rectom of the wolves body, running it through his body and up out the neck. They then tied the hands and feet to the pole and picked it up. They both then carried the wolf to the huge fire they had set up and set it on the supports they had set up and began to cook the wolf’s body. In the meantime, they set about putting water in a stew pot and began to put the good organs in along with the leftover potatoes and carrots. 

In an hour, the stew was ready but the wolf would take more time. The group sat around the pot eating the stew happily, complementing Stihl on his masterful cooking. Another hour later, and the wolf was fully cooked to perfection. The meat was tender and juicy, and the stuffing moist and fluffy. The group began to cut hunks off the wolf and chowed down, tearing into the pieces like, well ravenous wolves. Soon all that was left of the poor wolf was teeth marked bones, some cracked open and sucked dry of marrow. They were all tossed aside with the leftover entrails. 

In the morning, the pack was getting ready to go, cleaning things up from the night before and exacualting the former wolf. They dug a quick shallow hole and dumped the now rotting organs and old bones in there. Then each wolf came up and squatted over the hole. Loud farts filled the morning air, along with the smell of cooked and digested wolf, as the filthy brown mush began to exit from their asses into the hole below. By the third wolf, the hole was nearly filled with the putid, slimy, brown mess. Stihl then came over and took his turn at the hole. He squatted and grunted, his hole stretching as the thick mushy log slid from his hole. The first one hung there off his ass for a moment before breaking off and landing in the pile with a wet splat. The rest soon followed, several more logs slid out of his ass, more gas escaping with it, and by the time the Stihl had finished, the pile was nearly to the top of the hole. Stihl waved his nose as he pulled up his pants and smiled down at the pile.

“Well I hope you learned your lesson, thief. You won’t be doing that again,” Sthil said smiling and picking up the nearby shovel and began to cover up the rancid pile of bones and wolf shit. Once he was done, he jammed a stick into the mound and tied a small stick close to the top, making a cross. He then mounted his horse, taking his new trophies with him, as he and the rest of the pack rode back to town. 

A month later, Stihl was sitting in his small cabin, sipping on his coffee. The remains of Woffen, now a wolf skin rug, and a head mounted on the wall about his fireplace, next to three other heads. Another wolf, a Mountain lion, and a deer. All other criminals the wolf had taken down. Each with a snarl or a grimace on their faces. All except for Woffen, He had been given a scared and begging look, the last look he ever had on his face. The Wolf Stihl looked up at them and raised his glass to them before sipping the last of his coffee and heading out for the day. Another bounty to hunt, and another trophy to collect.