FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“Country road! Take me home! To the place, I belong!” While the loudly sung lyrics could stereotypically belong to a burly truck driver, traveling the highway for a hundredth time with precious cargo, it was a small hybrid car, with rather scrawny looking male sheep, barely fitting on his seat due to an abundance of wool, sprouted from his body. Through the opened window he looked to the side, just enjoying the view of green fields and occasional hills.

Hopefully, I can find a good barber in the countryside, Oliver thought, unsure if he could find any good shearer in this place. Difficulties of living in a state where you could get only from a small town or gas station to another one after at least an hour-long drive. But he was still in great spirit, despite reminding himself of problems with urban haircutters, always with their bad jokes and questionable service, since they’re not used to fluffy guys like him. That was the main reason why he wanted to try something new.

“It’s scorching out here…” Oliver grunted, pulling onto the collar of his shirt, slightly cooling down his overly fuzzy chest. He felt so hot, that the sheep almost saw a pillar of steam coming from inside his clothing. And since it would be illegal to drive naked, he had to endure that pain for some time.

‘BIG BETTY’S WOOL CUTTING SERVICE 2 MILES AHEAD’ a billboard said, quickly caught by Oliver. He wasn’t sure what ‘big’ stood for exactly but he didn’t want to drive any longer anyway, ready to meet that Betty gal, whoever that was. Just a few minutes later, he arrived at a small farm with a cozy cottage behind the short fence, looking around if that was the right place. After all, it didn’t look like much, the place probably had just several workers with that amount of land. After parking near the gate, he eventually left his car, fixing his tie afterward.

He could wear something else for something so casual, but he preferred his usual business attire, standing in a full suit in a place where people didn’t know what a fax machine was. Despite quite serious looks, the rest of Oliver’s appearance didn’t help that much, especially the pearly-white, noticeably long hair that grew past his shoulders. At least his suit affirmed his gender, even if there are still some females in the same attires.

Not being greeted by anyone in a seemingly forbidden place, he opened the gate and entered the yard, met with the silence occasionally interrupted by a stronger gust of wind. After noticing a bell attached to a nearby rope, he gently pulled the rope, releasing a reverberating and metallic sound. After a few moments, Oliver considered leaving and looking for a less deserted place, when a sudden crack of the cottage’s door froze him in place.

“Who’s that pretty girl? And with such a cute business suit. I always adored city folks like you!”

She must be Betty, he thought while looking at probably the largest female sheep in his life. Although she couldn’t be considered fat by any means, it was obvious how hardworking that woman had to be, looking at all those muscles hidden beneath an adequate amount of fat. Her dark skin glistened in the sun, completely and carefully shaven, leaving only a cloud of black hair on top of her head. Betty easily pushed the forties, but her body could be envied by many women half her age, especially the heavy bosom barely contained within her tight white shirt, short enough to show off her belly button. However, she still had some decency to wear full-length jeans, which miraculously didn’t tear because of quite sizable buns behind her.

“I’m a guy, actually…” he quietly answered, profusely blushing at such a blatant introduction. Betty immediately approached him and shook his hand with a strong grip, tight like a vice. Oliver whimpered, pulling out his hand and having second thoughts about this whole ordeal. But how could he refuse service from such an astonishing-looking woman? It was not like he couldn’t say ‘no’, but he would have faced consequences, after knowing her strength.

“Oh, of course you are. I’m Betty, but you probably already read the sign. Did you want just a haircut or full service? But after seeing that the sews of your cute suit can barely hold on, I can see that you need everything sheared off. And for this job we’ll need to be outside I’m afraid, but don’t worry, my employees aren’t too intrusive. Follow me.”

Oliver wanted to ask questions on why he would be embarrassed by being observed. After all, other barbers cut him in the presence of other clients and workers with his shirt off. But soon enough he would get his answer which he deeply feared. They approached the field behind the cottage, noticing a barn and a few burly bovine males leaning against the fence, one of them with straw grass in his mouth, reinforcing stereotypes.

“Alright. Take all of your clothes and take a seat. It’s ready for you.” Betty said, taking an industrial pair of electric shears from a stool, already connected to a nearby generator. But Oliver wasn’t afraid of such a powerful tool, but of what was going to happen next. He acted ignorant, pretending he had a problem with hearing.

“Uh… come again?”

“Your clothes, sugar cube. Pull them down. All of them. Or do you want my boys to help you out with that? They are eager to please, but you need to swing that way.” The tall sheep chuckled, her bosom bouncing along with her laughter. Red-faced Oliver didn’t want to look weak, slowly removing his tie, along with the vest and white shirt. Right after removing the last item, the normally flattened wool sprouted out, as if a cloud puffed out of his chest. He glanced at the bulls who kept gawking at him, but luckily Betty noticed their gaze as well.

“Isn’t your break already over? Find something to do, you two! And you… “ she said, towering before the smaller sheep. “Be quicker, would you? I love spending time with my clients but I’m also a busy woman. And don’t be afraid about showing off your prick. My ma always said: ‘If you saw one, you saw all of them’. so strip already boy.” Oliver listened to her briefly stern voice, before she almost returned to her gitty self.

The thinner sheep bent over while pulling down his pants along with underwear, suddenly hearing low whistling coming from the workers nearby. Betty furrowed her brows at the bulls, who quickly disappeared in the barn. It was another proof that Oliver couldn’t win with that woman, no matter how hard he would try. He felt her gaze upon his wool-covered ass, right before he straightened up, covering the crotch with his hands.

“Very nice. Now sit, we’ll start with your head first. Don’t wiggle around because this pair have some serious power and I don’t want to hurt you.” After he sat on the stool, Betty turned on the shears, its motor humming loudly, causing strong vibrations of the entire tool. Just after a second of hearing such horrific sounds, Oliver shivered and closed his eyes, waiting for the worst. Right after Betty successfully cut a sizeable lock of hair, he screamed.

“Aaah! Stop, it hurts!” Oliver whimpered, curling up on the stool, regretting coming here at all. But Betty didn’t turn off the razor from hell, giving him a cold and disappointed look, with a free hand on her hip. “I knew there would be problems with you. Just like all the city folks, drinking your soy latte and jogging instead of working hard on a farm. Man up and stop whimpering!”

Oliver didn’t feel actual physical pain, but that rough treatment still traumatized him, mistaking the strong vibrations of the tool’s razor, so he mistook this sensation for pain. But after initial whimpering, Betty’s motions got even harder and almost sinister, shearing off piles upon piles of locks, forcing them to fall onto his naked lap. A single tear trailed trailed down his cheek, before disappearing into the fluff below.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me. It’s just a simple procedure, why are you acting as if I’m flaying you alive? I’m almost done up here anyway, you’ll get tissues later.” The towering sheep said, pressing her bountiful bosom against his shoulder, within intimate reach. She resumed humming her melody, ignoring his crying and pleas. Although her razors went deeper than she previously planned, giving him a neat buzz cut, without sign of insubordinate lock on the way.

Oliver calmed down after a while, realizing that he wasn’t hurt after all. But still, the reverberating sounds vibrating in both of his ears made him shiver uncontrollably in fear. The smaller sheep considered standing up and running away completely naked, wanting to retain his dignity, but Big Betty barely started. She carefully sheared away the rest of the pesky hair from the top of his head, before turning off her cutter.

“See? That wasn’t so bad? But momma isn’t happy with you. No, sir. I think you’ll need some encouragement before we continue. I’ll just exclaim that it’s not a reward for your irrational behavior. It’s the opposite.” She said, quickly removing her top, showing a complete lack of bra. Two gigantic mounds flopped from beneath the tight material, slightly sagging due to their immense weight. Two slightly moist nipples shined in the sun's rays.

Oliver didn’t read his situation correctly, not understanding that it wasn’t a reward at all, since he stared directly at the gate of the heavens, already forgetting about either imaginary or mental pain. He visibly salivated, licking his lips but her gargantuan tits suddenly collided with his fluffy face, unable to take a breath.

“That’s for making me worried that I hurt you, ya wimp. Scaring momma with all that whimpering and tears. And look how good job I did.” She said, rubbing his perfectly shaven scalp, still rubbing her heavy breasts onto his cheeks and nose. Betty gave him enough space so he could finally inhale, whiffing her strong scent of farm and sweat. “I’m… sorry for that?” Oliver asked, confused about this whole situation, unsure if it was supposed to be heaven or hell.

“Words won’t cut it, city boy. Do you have any idea where the eggs come from? Or other produce? Here, get all the milk you can. And I mean it or else I’ll think about worse punishment for your sorry little ass.” She firmly stated, pulling her bosom out of his face, making them jiggle before Oliver’s eyes, their nipples close to the moist lips. The male sheep audibly gulped in panic, not even trying to fight with her, knowing well he would lose any fight, physical or verbal. After longer moments, he closed his eyes and leaned onto her tits, wrapping his mouth around the closest, engorged bud.

“That’s it. Suck on it hard. You’re just skin, bones, and fluff so you need all that milk to grow strong.” Betty chuckled, aware of Oliver’s adult age. He enjoyed the female sheep’s essence, but all that humiliation overshadowed the usually pleasant experience with a woman’s chest. He tried to grope the other breasts, but Betty swiftly slapped his hand away, still irritated with him.

“Nu-uh. Maybe after you behave, I’ll reward you. Now, do as I tell you. All done? Now, my other tit and don’t you dare spill even a single drop!” She roughly massaged his bald head with the knuckle of her burly hand, with a stern voice. Oliver couldn’t be sure if Betty was motherly like several minutes ago or if it was just a facade of her tough love practice.

After removing his mouth from the first milk-leaking bud, Oliver did his best to clean it off of the remaining drops, right before getting onto his second nipple like a powerful magnet, wrapping his lips around it like ravenous piranha. Betty groaned, enjoying the sensation, although focused on giving Oliver a few harsh lessons. During that time, the large sheep looked judgementally at his body, wondering how he could be used later on, already planning. After all, Oliver wouldn’t man up after a single lesson, needing more than that.

“Alright, boy. The break is over. Hopefully, you’ll behave better now, like a stud instead of a wuss. I’ve met many feminine so-called males. But you? Whoo boy, you take the cake.” She stopped her rant, realizing how awful that sounded, not wanting her client to feel even worse, especially when still they retained a cute personality. “Don’t listen to me, sugar cube. Just an old lady rambling about old days and guys of the past.”

Oliver wasn’t focused on her words anyway, staring at the hellish shears that returned to Betty’s hand. The other sheep didn’t put her shirt back on, apparently wanting to give him something to look at while she worked. Although briefly calm, the loud buzzing made him jump on his seat, flinching when its sharp razors got closer to his precious wool. Although he hadn’t panicked before, Betty still gave him a stern look. Instead of giving him another lecture, she simply continued her work, considering punishment after all was done.

She started with the boy’s face, seeing she did a rather lousy job with it, doing only a scalp alone. The muscular sheep placed her hand firmly on his shoulder, shearing away a few chunks of fuzzy fleece from his cheeks, exposing plump skin to the world. Looking critically at his face, she pressed the metallic, whirling tip of eclectic shears under his chin, removing another handful of thick wool, and letting it fall gracefully onto his lap.

“Please, be gentle. That’s just too loud!” Oliver whined, wiggling on the stool with hands on his knees. He tried his best to finally man up, but the sight of a towering woman with a powerful tool visibly overwhelmed him, as if a massive big-breasted beast attacked him with a torture device. Betty shook her head, trying to ignore each moment when her stubborn client gritted his teeth or flinched. Eventually, she stepped behind the shivering male, cutting all the fluffy hair from his back, and finally relaxed since she didn’t have to look at his scared face anymore. At least for a few moments.

The fuzzy heap of whiteness was getting bigger and bigger beneath her feet, going forward with her work, being halfway through with such a difficult customer. She knew well how hard it’ll be to shear off the wool from his ass cheeks, so she focused on the current task at hand, letting other worries for later.

Once the entire back was clean, she kneeled behind him to cut off all the pesky fleece from his calves, predicting that Oliver may suddenly kick her in the face from the sheer terror he experienced so far, but lucky for them it didn’t happen. With a gentle hum accompanied by hellish roars of her shears, Betty successfully removed most of the wool, saving the rest for last.

“Almost done, sugar cube. Just your chest, rest of legs, arms, and of course your ‘bikini area’ so to speak.” Betty smirked, standing tall before his eyes once again, seeing that Oliver’s fear didn’t disappear from his eyes. The taller sheep moved away his arms, focusing on the chest and belly, noticing that most of Oliver’s wool clumped around those areas. Betty changed her tool’s power to maximum, surprising the client in a bad way. If the previous setting sounder like hellhounds guarding gates to the underworld, now the eclectic shears growled with immense fury, ready to tear apart anything on its way.

“N-no… that’s too much…” Oliver whimpered, flinching on the stool but Betty simply continued her duty, wanting to get rid of all the unnecessary wool as fast as possible, reducing all the whines and cries to a bare minimum. With swipe after swipe, Betty tossed away sizable amounts of fluff, increasing the already large and fuzzy mess around Oliver’s naked feet. It took only a few minutes for her to eventually reach the other sheep’s completely bare stomach, sighing in relief that it was almost over. But the whimpering continued, sending him over the edge.

After such a gargantuan and exhausting task, Betty lowered the setting so the monstrously furious razors were once again buzzing less aggressively, but still sharp enough to shear away all of Oliver’s precious wool. She stood tall, observing the carnage and what was left, noticing a few handfuls of fleece in front of his legs. And of course, the crotch, not to mention the butt he was still sitting on.

Afraid that her client might kick her in the face, she struck the stool’s leg hard enough, forcing Oliver to fall onto his back along with the seat with a loud thud. The poor sheep exhaled, losing all the air in his lungs after a hard landing, but it wasn’t over for him just yet. When he opened his eyes, instead of the clouds he saw a pair of gigantic ass cheeks, hovering just above his face. When Betty lowered herself, she guided her cleanly shaven, engorged pussy lips gently grazing his nose. Before he could say anything, she sat on him with an audible and wet plop, forcing a soft moan from her throat.

“Much better. That’s going to shut you up. Stupid twink. Now, where were we?” Due to the size difference, Betty had no problem with raising one of his legs and reaching the remaining tufts of wool. Although during her hard work, she felt something off. Or rather, lack of something. “Why do you think I sat on your stupid mug? It’s not a picnic, so get to it!”

Startled and afraid that Betty might do something worse, Oliver extended his tongue and lightly touched Betty’s fat pussy lips, before parting them for better access to her wet snatch, somewhat enjoying the rough treatment. The immense weight of her ass wasn’t too comfortable, but if he had to decrease in such a way, so be it - he thought as if it would be an honorable death.

Betty kept humming, happy enough that whimpering finally stopped and even she could have some fun in the meantime, eventually finishing both of Oliver’s legs, leaving them smooth as her bottom. But then she was left with the hardest challenge yet, unable to predict how Oliver was going to react, once she got to work on his fuzzy ball sack. Not every male client needed such treatment and usually, Betty skipped that part, But her honor wouldn’t allow her to back off.

Taking a better position on Oliver’s face and simultaneously smothering him with her fat ass cheeks, she leaned closer between other sheep’s thighs, slowly but surely shearing away large tufts of fleece out of his abdomen, releasing a semi-hard cock from its sultry confinement. Betty smirked at it, feeling quite praised. After all, what was a bigger compliment about her beauty if not an impressive erection?

Once she reached Oliver’s balls, he proved that he was still conscious, immediately kicking around with his legs, simultaneously flailing his arms, somehow trying to wiggle out of this situation. Betty didn’t even try to comment on it, simply doing her job, lifting the entire ball sack as high as possible, shearing away all the unnecessary wool, and shredding it to pieces. Oliver’s scrotum didn’t look far more impressive than the fuzzy version, but she always preferred birds to eggs.

“I’ll lower the setting so I won’t harm your precious marbles, city boy. Although I expected even smaller ones that pair is adequate. Not even half as big as my boys’, but you’re not here for breeding after all.” She said, using the knob to stop her tool’s roaring, while having another idea of how to proceed with further punishment, remembering about other devices on her farm. But since she had to focus on one thing at a time, Betty finally placed the shearing razors against the tuft.

With a slightly sadistic smirk, the taller sheep cut through the white hair with the utmost care, feeling immediate satisfaction when she revealed the bare skin of Oliver’s ballsack, able to admire the first orb. Betty worked efficiently, simultaneously wondering what she should do with his package afterward while shaving it clean. And after she almost finished with most of the sack, Betty noticed something else.

“Oh, you naughty boy. I knew you would enjoy it.” The sheep murmured, seeing once mostly-soft cock turning into a raging erection, rapidly throbbing with newfound strength. It reminded her of other employees, who were constantly under heat and it wasn’t anything related to the hot weather. Betty fought herself, trying not to succumb to her primal urger, taking in a large whiff of his powerful scent. There was a hint of sweat, fear, and even musk, although not in large amounts.

“Last stop. Well, almost.” She said, continuing with the ‘torture’, picking the last pile of fuzzy hair in front of her eyes, still remembering about the fluffy butt cheeks which she saved for later. It was getting difficult to work, having the pre-cum leaking shaft so close to her lips. After shearing away the fleece out of Oliver’s pubic mound, she let out a defeated sigh. “Ah, what the hell.”

She turned off the tool and placed it on the ground, right before lowering her head low enough so she could take his ready cock with one confident motion, sliding it down her experienced maw, swirling her tongue around the twitching piece of meat. Oliver got slightly lazy, not working hard enough between Betty’s ass cheeks so she had to remind him of his current duties. With a decisive move, she raised her behind and hit him hard with both fat mounds with an audible and wet plop, spreading droplets of sweat all around his head.

Not having any other choice, the thinner sheep tried his best to at least partially satisfy his sadistic barber, even if it was he who paid for all that horrifying experience, although somewhat enjoyable considering his current position. Oliver kissed Betty’s hardened pearl right before wrapping his lips around the sizeable nub, sliding his tongue between her meaty lips.

The bare woman didn’t plan at all to let him be released, not yet. When more and more of Oliver’s pre-cum went down her throat, she abruptly stopped all the fun and pulled his cock out of her mow, lightly tapping it afterward, checking how close it is from bursting, judging by its throbbing. Without saying a word, she stood up and placed both hands on each side of her mouth, for better reception.

“Alright, boys. Bring out Gertrude. We have a new breeder!”

Confused and exhausted sheep didn’t understand her at first, not sure if she mentioned him. After all, he was in no way in any position to breed anyone, with or without his consent. And who was that Gertrude anyway? He tried to stand up from the ground but Betty quickly stopped him, placing her big foot against his abdomen. While it filled Oliver with more fear, he still had a perfect view of Betty’s assets from a low angle, able to admire both drooping breasts from below and their hard, standing tall nipples. Not mentioning her powerful, muscular thighs and wet, warm snatch.

“You have to wait first, pretty boy. But don’t you worry, we’re almost done. Since you caused me so much unnecessary trouble, you have to pay me a toll, besides the regular payment. Ah, there she is.” She said, looking at two bulls pushing a strange contraption on wheels, that couldn’t look like any actual animal.

The tubular shape resembled a pommel horse used by gymnasts but built in a way that it vaguely looked like a feral animal with an added neck and head. Or rather pieces of metal in their shapes. But the most important part of it was the hole in its behind, which was chiseled with perfection and looked like a real vagina. Even with a clit! Oliver was shocked that instead of a tail, the device had a long eclectic cord. Could it pump as well?

“You can go, boys. And you, on your damn feet. Don’t even think about running away, you still have to pay one way or another. I told you that.” Betty said after lifting her foot, before connecting ‘Gertrude” to a generator, then turning the contraption on. Almost immediately it started humming, simultaneously letting out weird squelching sounds as if an actual horse ravenously sucked something off.

“No, please! I can’t take it any longer, I want to go home!” Before Oliver could turn over to gather his clothes, Betty quickly wrapped her fingers around his rigid shaft, pulling it towards her along with the rest of his shivering body. “I thought we were already through all this. What do I have to do so you can muster at least some decency and masculinity? Stop sobbing and show us how it’s done.”

Betty placed the naked and afraid male sheep behind the contraption, before smacking his entire, fluffy ass, forcing him to insert the entire shaft inside the strangely moist tunnel. Was it luber beforehand? Before Oliver asked himself any further questions, he realized in sheer terror how powerful that pump was, hungrily sucking him off. In normal circumstances, Oliver would be in heaven. But with added humiliation, fear, and mental pain, it couldn’t be worse. Until he had to correct himself.

“Oh, by the way. We’re almost finished with your shearing. That’s why you came here in the first place, right?” After these ominous words, Betty stood behind him with a razor in her hand, turning it on at the high setting. Its traumatizing hum made Oliver’s guts churn just at the mere sound of it, but there was no way to escape. Gertrude held onto him stronger than a vice, almost as if it tried to pull the entire cock off.

“I’m begging you, stop! I’ll be better, I promise. I can even pay you double, I swear!” Actual tears trailed down his clean-shaven cheeks, splashing against the ground afterward. If someone in the past said to him that a tall, hefty woman would shear his ass while he was getting sucked off he would not believe them but simultaneously wish that to become true. But that day he wished to stay home, even at the price of overheating in smelly wool.

Betty sang to herself, finally satisfied with her work since there were just a few mere seconds before that shivering sissy boy would look fairly decent, even if mentally he was still eons away from becoming a real man. The razors kept doing their job, cutting through the most stubborn hair growing out on the sheep’s ass cheeks before it eventually went silent for the day. Oliver could sigh in relief, but there was still a second contraption continuing its dubious torture.

Betty lightly smacked each of Oliver’s bare mounds making them jiggle, straightening up afterward so she could observe the breeding process. She took deep and long breaths, feeling actual exhaustion as if she finished with a dozen massive sheep instead of a single fragile and sobbing one. She tried to muster even a shred of sympathy, but years of experience and tough life taught her that tears are never the answer. Especially ones caused by something so frivolous. Then she finally realized something.

“Fourth speed and you’re still on your feet? Maybe we can mold something out of you after all. But let us see how you’ll manage against the highest setting, boy.” Afterward, the female sheep turned on the knob all the way through, causing Gertrude to violently shake as if it could tear itself apart any second. But Betty believed in her favorite breeding machine to do its actual job.

Oliver held onto the contraption with all of his remaining strength, knowing well that even if he would let go, that damn monster would still hungrily devour that poor shaft, no matter if Oliver’s body would hang limply or not. The sheep felt his rapidly beating heart, trying to keep up the pace, while every inch of his bare skin profusely sweated. Soaked and wet, the sheep tried one final time to pull out his aching cock, but for the naught.

“I can’t. I just can’t…” Oliver kept sobbing, despite having the most insane intercourse in his entire life, since nothing could give a better head than Gertrude, at least according to its owners. Betty couldn’t look at his tears anymore and instead focused on the tensing ball sack, ready to release all that precious load. And when she almost lost all of her patience, Oliver finally gave up with a shrieking scream. “Aaah! Oh god!”

The entire time when he kept pouring out thick ropes of cum, the contraption didn’t stop for a moment, swallowing every single drop. Each painful throb of his shaft shot smaller and smaller loads before it turned into pathetic drips. Betty eventually turned off the pump, looking at collapsing Oliver who completely gave up from exhaustion. His limp shaft spurted one tiny droplet of pearly-white liquid, quickly softening within seconds.

“That should cover it.” The sheep said, taking a few notes out of Oliver’s wallet, before tossing it onto his bare chest. “Now, get out of my property. And don’t go back until you finally man up. You hear me?” She huffed angrily, although still helping out onto his feet. Oliver could barely stand but was still happy that all the torture was finally over. The smaller sheep looked for the rest of his things.

“My clothes…” he started, but Betty had enough of it. “I said, git!”

With just a wallet in his hand, Oliver had to suffer through a final humiliation, getting to his car completely soaked and naked, feeling the piercing gazes of other farmers who knew too well what happened behind Betty’s house. When he turned towards it, the taller sheep hit him with a bulk of clothes from afar.

“And don’t make me wait for too long. Call me.” Although still in a rough mood, Oliver could notice a faint, discreet wink of her left eye. He gulped audibly, finally getting to his car. But will he muster enough courage to ever come back?