“Heeeeere’s Duster!”

The heavy-set anthro dog bursts through the saloon doors, arms spread wide, to cheers and raised glasses from the other creatures inside. “Hello folks! Hope ya’s don’t mind, I’m bringin’ company…” With a grin he holds one side of the door open for you. You step from the sunny outdoors into the window-lit interior, sunbeams making trails through the light dust in the air, and your eyes take a moment to adjust before you can observe all the characters sitting around.

Not a single one of them is clothed on their lower body! Fuzzy sheathes and scruffy balls abound; it’s almost impossible to swivel your eyes anywhere without them landing on some person’s junk. A cheetah passes you with his heavy uncut cock bouncing against his thigh, a horse leans on the bar with her whole pussy out. They’re all wearing their usual jackets n’ shirts, though, which really makes their pantsless-ness seem even MORE naked.

Everyone, that is, except for Duster, who makes quick work of observing the entry sign;

“Leave your britches, so we may see yer weapons!"