The Fetish Video V: A Visit To The Farm

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They didn’t tell me exactly where the farm was located. No, they just stuck me naked in a pen in the back of the pen, surrounded by real animals, and drove me there. To get me in the proper mindset, they bound me in rope and blindfolded me for the ride there.

At first, when they pitched me the idea for the shoot, I said no, thinking that they wanted me to engage in bestiality. (A big no! Even for me!) They, however, assured me that no bestiality would be involved. I’d be the only animal in the situation, stripped, shaved, disinfected, branded, milked, and bred. I still wasn’t completely on-board with the idea, but it started to take root in my brain.

“Shaved?” I suddenly asked during that initial meeting, “I’m famously lasered smooth from the neck down.”

The company shook his head. “We would want you to shave your head and brows too. The director was very insistent on a full dehumanization experience for the model starring in the video. She wants the girl stripped to her basest state of being.”

This stirred me. I ran my fingers through my waist length black hair. My absolute pride and joy. I imagined it being stripped from me by cruel men. Just leaving bare smooth skin for them to abuse. Then I signed the contract.

A week later, I was in the back of that truck. When it finally stopped, I could hear the back of the truck open. All the animals started making a commotion. I tried to stand up, only to lose my balance and fall back into the hay. I could hear rough male voices laughing at me as they boarded the truck.

“Look at this hairy little she-beast,” said one of them, picking me up by my long black hair, “It definitely needs a good shave.”

He then walked/dragged me down the truck ramp and into another holding pen. After he removed my blindfold, I could see that he was a really big man. Like almost 7ft of muscle. And bald from head to toe. Underneath his right eye, he had the double XX of the company tattooed in bold black letters.

As agreed, he started off by shaving me. He knelt me down in the dirt. Then he used a pair of old-fashioned animal shears to crop my hair close. There was an uncomfortable tug on my scalp as he took each lock. As my hair, my beautiful hair, fell around me in the dirt, I started to cry. Ignoring my tears, the bald giant switched out his shears for a pair of hair clippers. No guard. These were very modern and efficient. I felt them mowing down my hair as they made their way back and forth across my scalp and, finally, over my eyebrows. My skull still buzzed a little when he stopped shaving me.

Patting my buzzed head like you’d pat a dog’s head, he said, “There. Nothing like a good shearing. Now you’re ready for a nice refreshing flea dip.”

Dazed by the sight of my fallen hair, and the feeling of the light head left behind, I allowed him to pick me up and dunk me into the waiting flea dip. It stung a little even when he took me out 30 seconds later. Then I needed to wait 5 minutes, cold, wet, and feeling that sting, before he hosed me off.

“That was a genuine disinfectant,” he said, picking me up, “but we use it because it has an interesting side effect – it makes the slave animals like yourself as bald as an egg for a few months.”

As he carried me to the next torture, I caught a glimpse of myself in a window. And, as promised, I was bald was an egg. I didn’t even have eyelashes anymore. A such humiliating state to be in! Being a once beautiful woman reduced to a hairless and abused creature. Truly an it and not a she. And it made me giddy with excitement for the rest of the weekend.

It was quite the weekend! You can, of course, buy the video of it on the company website. It’s been six months since my visit to the farm, and my hair has only just started to grow back. It’s a fine 1/2 inch black peachfuzz now. The company promised to allow me back to the farm once it’s down to at least my tits.

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