It was a warm and quiet summer afternoon on a Saturday. Most boys Fausto's age would have either been playing on their front lawns or sitting inside playing video games-- but for the pig boy, who was as adventurous as he was timid, the streets of his neighbourhood could not be more boring. Aware that he was going to get a haircut later that day, Fausto was more or less prolonging the inevitable. His appointment wasn't until the afternoon, so he'd spent the better part of his morning walking towards the middle of town and wandering around what could best be described as his hometown's 'high street', the place where most of the town's business could be found. The porcine didn't really have any money to speak of that he could spend, but that didn't stop him window shopping and seeing what they had to offer. He never went inside, too shy to want to talk to any kind of manager or staff worker, so he instead looked through the windows as he walked. Clad in just a pair of shorts and a shirt loose enough to billow slightly in the cool breeze, Fausto spent the remainder of his morning wandering. He liked the strange therapeutic nature of just seeing the sights. No-one approached or talked to him, and nothing was expected of him. It was calm. Noticing the time from the clock atop the tower in the town's main square, Fausto turned and began to head home. He lives a fair distance away from the centre, his house on the far side of town, but he didn't mind the walk. He'd been out for hours already but didn't even feel tired, despite his chubby frame. Perhaps it was due to how often he actually walked, or maybe it was down to all the bustling energy a 12-year-old boy typically had. Either way, making his way home wasn't a problem. He followed his usual path, following the main roads until he took a shortcut through a residential area. The path sat in a small valley and went through a couple of underpasses, but it saved him 10 minutes on the walk home if he was quick. On his journey, he met a man who was loitering under the second to last underpass, smoking a cigarette and slouching on the little brick ledge that helped to stabilise the road above his head. As Fausto drew closer, he recognised the man's species to be a wolf. He looked to be in his late 30s, though Fausto couldn't tell completely. The wolf raised his head as the boy approached and the porcine had every intention of just walking past him. He averted his gaze and didn't notice the wolf's hungry stare as he took in the sight of the boy's chubby body and deep pink skin. "Hey kid," The wolf barks, causing Fausto to jump and retreat a little. "You lost?" "N...No," Fausto frowns. "I'm on my way home." "You sure you don't want to come back to mine? I have a car, I can give you a ride home." The wolf rises from his slouched position and scratches his chest for a moment. Fausto instinctively gets a bad vibe from the man-- something about his getup, the shaggy trench coat, dirty shirt and loose jeans just puts him off. The porcine shakes his head and retreats a little more. "Um, no, it's okay. It's not far." He insists, trying to be polite but assertive-- neither of which seem to work very well. The wolf frowns, looking as if he's offended by the boy's rejection. "What, you turning down my hospitality? Where are your manners?" The wolf suddenly and abruptly strides forward, grasping the pig's forearm and trying to pull him in the opposite direction of where he was headed. "Come on, let's go. I'll give you a ride boy, I promise..." "No!" Fausto is stronger than he looks. He wrenches himself free but finds himself stuck, with the wolf blocking his path back home. Fausto thinks on his trotters, however, and instead backs up, maintaining distance from the man. "I'm going to tell the police on you!" Always the goody-two-shoes, Fausto turns and bolts, the hard hooves of his feet clacking against the stone path as he runs in the direction of the town centre once more. The wolf grimaces at the loss of his prey before a grin spread across his face. Keeping to the shadows of the underpass, the wolf raises his hands and mutters something under his breath, fingers flexing and wriggling in the porcine's direction. Fausto doesn't even notice or realise that his body is glowing at the man mutters some kind of incantation, but as quickly as the glow blossomed it faded, leaving no trace of the wolf's actions. With a snicker and a lewd grope of his crotch, the wolf returns to his slumped position in the underpass, groaning to himself and stretching his legs. Fausto doesn't know it yet, but his day is about to get a whole lot worse. The pig boy didn't look back, no matter how far he'd run. He didn't stop until he'd made his way to the high street and around the bend towards the only known police station in town, which conveniently sat near all the shops to predominantly catch shoplifters in a town that lacked a great deal of crime. Nestled between two other large buildings sat the station itself, and Fausto paused at the steps leading up to the station. He had initially intended to go inside and report the perverted man, but instead spotted an ursine in the narrow alleyway between the station building and the one next to it. The policeman was polishing off a sandwich, but his uniform, a blue shirt, trousers and cap immediately made him stand out amongst the stark dark brown brick around him. The pig approached, gasping for breath from having run for several minutes. "Excuse me, Mr. Officer, sir," Fausto began as the bear turned his head, staring down at him without speaking. "I was walking home and a scary wolf guy at the underpass tried to kidnap me and take me to his house!" The police officer didn't say anything, which concerned the porcine for only a moment before he began to speak again, assuming that the man needed to hear more before he could help. "Um, he was a little shorter than you...and he was wearing, like, a big coat a-- hey!" Fausto had barely begun to describe the perverted wolf in detail when the bear grabbed him by the arm and pulled him roughly towards the alley, the boy standing up against the brick directly opposite the man. The cub parted his lips to speak and then closed his mouth again, unsure what to say or think to the bear's actions. Through it all the man simply stared, eyes searching and taking the boy in. Suddenly, the man raised his hand and slashed down. Fausto winced and closed his eyes, fully expecting the bear's sharp claws to cut his skin or the man's overbearing hand to smack him on the head, but those claws instead hooked into the neck-hole of his loose shirt and pulled. Under their sharp influence, the shirt tore, shredding four neat lines down the front of the cub's body and dropping ribbons of his top to the floor. The piglet out a whimper of protest and tried to back off, but the policeman's other hand grasped his shoulder and pulled at the sleeve of his shirt, yanking it from his person. All that Fausto could hear was the sound of tearing clothes and he stared, wide-eyed, into the bear's eyes. The policeman didn't stop there. He paused briefly to run his eyes over the cub's form, taking in the smooth pink skin combined with only a couple of black splotches, one on his right nipple and another on his stomach, matching the black spot on his right shoulder and left eye respectively. After a moment, his hands travelled down as he wordlessly pulled and yanked at the waistband of the pig's shorts as the boy protested weakly, unsure whether to fight back with more ferocity or just let it happen, considering the occupation of his 'attacker'. The claws eventually snagged deep enough to cut the band of his shorts, and once the tension was removed they fell from the boy's waist with ease, dropping to his ankles. Only Fausto's tight white briefs remain, but even they didn't last long, for the ursine hooked and yanked in one smooth and simple motion, tearing the front and legholes all at the same time with his powerful claws. Fausto quickly became vividly aware of his nudity and did the only thing a 12-year-old could think to do: he snapped his hands down, covering his darker shade package with his two-tone hands, instinctively cupping his balls with his black digits and pressing his palms against his length. He didn't want to admit it, but the humiliation of being naked in public was stirring his pubescent hormones. It wasn't even the act of the humiliation, but the fact of people being able to see his member, to gaze upon it that made his body reach, much as he was uncomfortable. He stared up at the police offer who only seemed to smile in satisfaction, and he could only think of one word to say. "Why?" The 12-year-old whimpered, and the bear blinked innocently at him, confused by his response. "Good little pigs should be naked in public." He said it so matter-of-factly that Fausto was simply stunned, unable to come up with a rebuttal. The bear reached out and clasped his shoulder, turning him towards the main street and giving him a firm, leading pat on his chubby ass, directing him out of the alley. "Now, on your way." The pig hummed his delight and gestured, and Fausto faltered. "W-Wait, but, my clothes! The pervert wolf guy! Aren't you going to help me?" The cub spluttered, and the pig stared down at him for a moment, before his eyebrows creased into a frown. "On your way." He affirmed with a soft voice, but that combined with his frowning face made Fausto anxious. He whimpered and huffed and squirmed on the spot, aware that he shouldn't refute a police officer but also vividly aware of his nakedness. With a frustrated groan he turned, realising that there were a few more people walking around than he realised. He was unable to do anything else but turn and run, heading in the direction of home. Fausto was vividly aware of several things in his naked run. He was conscious of the light breeze against his revealed skin which made it tingle. His ass, plump and chubby, jiggled with every step without the support of his tight underwear, which only served to embarrass him more. The worst part was his member, which swelled and strained against his palm as he caught the gaze of others whilst he ran, eager to be let free and make his arousal known. All that did was make him clamp his hands down tighter, not wanting anyone to see his erection. He expected people to be shocked, but it was strange. Every person he passed simply smiled, though most of them he didn't look in the eye. He only started paying attention to their reactions when they didn't holler or hackle him as he ran past them and stayed dutifully silent, though their gaze lingered. He was just as confused as he was with the bear, but no amount of thinking would solve his current conundrum. He put the peculiar act of passers-by to the back of his mind and made a beeline for home, not stopping even once to catch his breath. Thankfully, the perverted wolf from before seemed to have moved from his place in the underpass, so Fausto could actually get home without being stopped. He ran up the path to the porch and quickly let himself inside, closing the door behind him and bounding up the stairs before his parents saw him. He heard his mother call out to him briefly but he didn't hear what she said, his heart pounding in his ears and her words drowned out by his bounding steps. He reached his bedroom and shut the door behind him, relaxing for the past time in the past 20 minutes. His lungs begged for rest and his chest heaved as he gulped in air, content with the privacy of his own room. "Fausto? Fausto!" His mother's voice was clearer and closer now, presumably because she'd come up the stairs to talk to him. The pig cub frantically looked around for a pair of clothes and yanked on some briefs he found on the floor, reaching for his shorts. Thankfully, however, his mother didn't barge in and talk to him. Instead, she lingered outside the door. "Why are you home? Did you forget you have a haircut appointment in half an hour?" She called through the door, and Fausto paused. "Uh..." He knew of the appointment of course, but he also thought his mother would be going with him, just for some peace of mind. Judging by her question, she must have changed her mind...or she did earlier and he forgot. "...You forgot, didn't you?" It was as if she read his mind. "I've got an important phone call soon so I can't go with you. I told you this morning." "Ah...Sorry momma, I must've been half asleep," He admitted shyly. "I'm just getting a change of clothes and a drink, then I'll go." "Okay. Don't be late." She warned, and he listened to the sound of her footsteps receding and sighed. Getting a haircut on his own wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but what had happened earlier was still playing on his mind and making him anxious. Pushing it to the back of his mind and instead being excited for his impending haircut, Fastuo yanked on another shirt and made his way downstairs, briefly visiting the kitchen for a couple of glasses of water before leaving the house once more, taking the money for the haircut with him. His mother bid him a quick and simple farewell as the phone rang when Fausto left, indicating her all-important call. He quietly shut the door behind him so as not to disturb her and made the 20-minute journey back to the centre of town, thankful for a quiet walk with some actual clothes on. He ignored the embarrassing feelings of his previous nakedness and chalked it up to a peculiar scenario, something that 'just happens'-- at least, that's what he hoped. The barbershop in town, known as The Quick Snip, was not one that Fausto visited 3 or 4 times a year out of a fondness for the place-- to put it bluntly, it was the only barbershop in town. Unless he wanted to spend 30 minutes on a bus to the town over, this was his best bet for getting his hair cut. It sat near the bank on a stretch of road out from the town centre, and Fausto had visited the place so often in the past that he knew where it was off by heart. He paused outside the salon, making sure his hair was clean and presentable, before pushing the door open and stepping inside. For one barbershop that was intended to cut hair for everyone in town, the place was surprisingly quiet. The shop's owner, an old sheep called Mr. Perriwinkle, was dutifully cutting the loose ends of a client's hair whilst two others waited seated by the window, reading the several years old magazines that they'd acquired from the small end table near the seats. The sheep turned his head when the piglet entered and smiled over his rimmed spectacles at the boy, before turning his attention back to the customer. Fausto slinked into a seat and waited. He luckily didn't have to wait long. When the old man was finished with the hair of the client in front of him and saw her out the door, he made a quick gesture for Fausto to come up. The piglet was momentarily concerned that he was cutting ahead of the others, but they waved him to go ahead as well, not minding the wait. He was a little apprehensive, but the cub rose to his feet and slipped into the chair in front of the barber. The sheep swept a smock around his front so that hair wouldn't get on his shirt. Fausto heard the snapping of scissors near his ear and felt strangely nervous, but tried his best to ignore it. "Just the usual then, little piggy?" Mr. Perriwinkle reached down with his free hand, pinging the boy's cheek between his finger and thumb. Fausto simply nodded, feeling a little too bashful the speak. He faced the mirror and could see himself clearly. At that moment he realised just how unkempt his little mop of brown hair had gotten and he was glad he was getting it cut down a little. Fausto watched through the mirror as the sheep moved and hummed, combing his hair with a fine professional's implement and checking the length of the hair as he went, as a true barber should. The piglet turned his gaze away for just a moment, glancing over to the people who were still waiting and those who were coming in and out. His ears perked to the sound of a buzzer and he wondered where it was coming from, but it became clear when he felt a sharpness against the back of his head, dragging up towards the top of his scalp, accentuated by the chilling buzz of hair being cut. "Wait--" Fausto tried to stand and protest, but a firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back down into his seat. He whimpered, trying to catch the attention of those sitting nearby, but it seemed as if they were willfully ignoring him. He tried to stand a second time, but the man's hand on his shoulder was firm and strong, keeping him in place and the clippers came to his head again, running another track along the back of his head and up towards the crown. "I don't..." Fausto tried to weakly complain, his cheeks growing flushed from a mixture of embarrassment and frustration, but the sheep said nothing as he continued to cut. Despite Fausto's best efforts to rise, Mr. Perriwinkle was stronger than he looked. Slowly but surely the sheep's clippers moved over and around the piglet's head, working from the back around to the right-hand side and finally to the front, where he dragged it across Fausto's fringe and cut his hair so short that it was almost non-existent, barely a stubble. Fausto whimpered the entire time, growing more and more frustrated that no-one could notice what was happening to him. By the time the sheep was done, Fausto was almost completely bald-- but the barber didn't stop there. "Mm, there's still some hair...let's fix that, shall we?" Mr. Perriwinkle beamed like Fausto was grateful when the opposite couldn't be more true. The young piglet mourned the loss of his hair as the sheep briefly left him in the chair, reaching over to acquire a can of shaving cream and a neat little razor, one typically used for cutting bears or leg hairs. Fausto once again rose, desperate to get out of there before the sheep made it any worse. He made it halfway off the seat before a hand quickly and firmly pulled him back down into position, the sheep tutting his disappointment. Wordlessly the man continued, squirting and them smearing shaving cream across the piglet's scalp. It tingled slightly, cool and strangely soothing, but it was quickly replaced by the grating, sliding feeling of the razor moving over every bump and dip of his head, shaving off the thin stubble that was the last of his hair and leaving him with an embarrassing chrome dome. This time Fausto didn't dare to move: clippers were more or less safe, but the razor was a sharp and dangerous blade. He knew better. In roughly 5 minutes, the sheep was finished, and he used a towel to dry off the rest of the excess cream that had formed around the piglet's ears and at the base of his neck. Fausto stared at himself in the mirror, horrified with his now hairless head. It looked strange and frightening, but not impossible to hide-- he could wear a hat at school and no-one would notice. More than that, he was angry that it had even occurred in the first place, yet he somehow knew that arguing his case to the sheep would get him nowhere. For a brief moment, Mr. Perriwinkle pulled away, and Fausto saw a potential opportunity to escape-- but it seemed that the man was waiting for that, for he very quickly returned before the piglet could even get to this feet. "You can't leave with that smock on." Mr. Perriwinkle muttered, tugging at the lever on the side of the chair and causing the chair to swing back to a near-horizontal position. Fausto's vision blurred as he came face to face with the ceiling above, some of it partially obscured by the sheep's happy-looking eyes and kind smile-- though Fausto was beginning the think the man was a little sadistic. The sheep raised a pair of scissors, snipping the air for a moment before bringing it down. Fausto naturally tensed, unsure where those scissors were going to go-- to his surprise, they scooped in between the smock and his neck, cutting firmly along down the smock itself. To Fausto, this felt like an enormous waste of time, but he was glad there was nothing more to it-- that is, until the smock began to part from the cut, revealing the piglet's bare chest. "W-Wait!" Fausto cried out, realising that the sheep had cut along his shirt at the same time, effectively leaving him shirtless. Fausto hoped and begged to himself that this was just another mistake, but as the sheep finished cutting down towards the hem and raised the scissors to the piglet's arm, he knew it was intentional. He watched and gawked as Mr. Perriwinkle cut along his shoulders and snipped at the neckline of his shirt, the fabric falling from his front and in a heap around his stomach. Fausto tried to get up and run, but the sheep forced him down again. Looking frantically to the other customers, the piglet whimpered and cried out for help, to relieve himself of the embarrassment of being naked a second time, but the people sitting there waiting acted as if he didn't even exist; they didn't look up from their magazines. With a flick of his wrist, the crumpled, cut shirt was snatched and tossed from Fausto's body, and the scissors neatly dug between the band of the piglet's shorts and stomach, cutting easily along and snipping all the way down to the leghole. Fausto, much like before, didn't dare to move with the sharp scissors next to his body, but his cheeks became more and more flushed with red and his whimpers made it clear he didn't want this. Once the sheep had cut down one leg, he did the same to the other and delicately removed the wide strip of the short's front from Fausto's body, pressing the scissors to the crease of his inner thigh and cutting upwards to snip off the briefs shortly thereafter, once again revealing the piglet's little flaccid cock to the public eye for the second time that day. Fausto could barely believe it. One time was bad enough, but a second time was more than just a mere coincidence. He couldn't figure out why people were acting like this, but something was happening to them that affected him. He darted his hands to his crotch and tried to stammer something, but he could barely get the words out, his mind a whirlwind of questions and fears. Mr. Perriwinkle, now satisfied, places the scissors down and steps to the side, tugging at the lever that keeps the chair rolled back. It abruptly snaps upright and almost launches Fausto out of the chair, but he remains firm. He parts his lips to speak, but before he could even say anything remotely coherent, the sheep is directing him out of the chair. "Thank you for your business, young man. Don't worry about the fee." With a smile, the sheep clasped one of Fausto's chubby ass cheeks and gave it a squeeze, before firmly leading him towards the door. The piglet tried to turn and argue or resist, but his timid nature makes him easy to manhandle. The other customers didn't look up at the barber opens the front door to the shop and coaxes Fausto out, before closing it behind him. The piglet found himself standing in the middle of the busy street, catching the smiling glances of the people around him, once again in the nude. He'd have to run home in this state for the second time today. Just what the hell was wrong with this town?