TextDownloadCognition, Part 5 You aren’t a Fluffy Pony. You never have been. The concept sounds fascinating to you, but it’d ultimately be pain-filled and tragic. Not to mention coated in shit. So, you stick to watching them. Researching them. Learning every single thing you could about them. Your name is Miley. You’re a biologist, and part time Fluffologist. You’re also the inventor of the term ‘Fluffologist’, which is one who researches artificially created organisms. The reason you’re the inventor of said term is because nobody else could give two shits to even study the shitrats further. The Fluffy Ponies were… fascinating, to say the least. Dad was one of the scientists who worked at HasBio, and then they escaped. The government was outraged, he was given the death sentence for incompetence, and life went on. Ever since then, you’ve been working yourself to try and learn everything about Fluffies. Their biology, their psychology, ways to reduce their litter size, their population, make them a pest no more… Or at the very least learn how to wipe them out completely. Whatever lets you help the world. Right about now, you were overlooking the feeds coming from your camera drones, little GoPro cameras on remote controlled arthropod-like legs. You planted them in a little grotto near the city, where a herd of Fluffies had made their home. There was quite an intriguing development in the burrow they slept in. Apparently one of the Fluffies caught on to a Smarty’s rape plan and had gotten the herd to turn against him. Such behaviour is very uncommon for a Fluffy, specifically an Earthie. You’ve always had an interest for unusual Fluffies. Be them Push-Pops, Alicorns, cannibals… You wanted to observe these little guys a bit closer. You wonder how they would behave if the now ‘liberated’ herd was moved to a more urban environment? Perhaps you could examine some of them yourself, especially that Orange one. He was the guy who told the herd anyway. Now that sounds like an intriguing experiment. ========================== It’s been a day since the Smarty was overthrown, and already you just feel exhausted. He won’t stop screaming, and yelling, and… ugh. Honestly, you just want to sleep, real bad. Try and forget that you were basically molested and killed another Fluffy. Not to mention, the camera monitoring the grotto. You’ve started noticing more of them pop up, but they’re never always in the same locations… You figured you’d try and keep yourself occupied by playing with Fairy and her friends. You were just kind of rolling around an old tennis ball between each other. Fairy called it ‘Fluffy ball’. She claims that it is, and you quote, the ‘bestest game ebah’. You’re too caught up in the game to notice the rustling in the grotto, along with the voices of “Hoomin?” “New Mummah?” “Eep! Wun way!” “Wub new mummah!” The other Fluffies stop, and you feel something loom over you. Before you realise it, you’re being scooped up into a cage. “Wu- Ey! Wet Fwuffy down? Pwease?” You refrain from speaking normally, as it’d spook the herd (and the human). Some of the other Fluffies from Fairy’s little group, Fairy herself included, are scooped in too. They cry and make scaredy poopies on the floor. Goddamn it. Well, you guess this is your life now. You’d try to bang against the cage door to try and free yourself, but you’re blocked off by the other Fluffies in the cage. They wine about how it’s too cramped, and you agree. Today’s not going off to a great start. =================== You drive back home, turning on the radio to drown out the cries of “Why mummah huwt Fwuffy?” “Gib sketties?” “Huuhuu! Cagie am tuu smaww!” The copper fluffed one stayed quiet. He looked almost annoyed… You drove home, took the cage to your designated Safe Room, and dumped them all out. “Alright everyone, my name is Miley. I just wanna make some observations about how a feral Fluffy adapts to a human-owned environment. Gonna see if any of you still have herd mentality. Further tests may continue, but until then feel free to do whatever you want.” You gesture to the various toys, kibble and water dispensers, and pet beds around the room. The six Fluffies you gathered all have various emotions on their faces. Three of them look ecstatic, as if they forgot that they were even in a herd to begin with. One is crying out for its special friend, and how it’s a soon-mummah. Shit, that almost makes you feel a little bad. The pink Pegasus was moping about how they may not ever be able to see their herd again. The copper one just looked enraged. Not in the whole ‘puffed cheek’ way that Fluffies do to make themselves look bigger, but genuinely angry. You kneel to face him. “Aww, hey there little guy. What’s wrong?” =================================== A tanned, dark haired lady with a small birthmark near her chin smiles at you. She’s dressed professionally, in a coat and everything. Great. Your worst nightmares are being realized. You almost got raped, and now you’re being kept as a fucking lab rat, even though she doesn’t know a thing about you. You’re honestly at the tipping point, and you just don’t give a shit anymore. “Well, you shouldn’t feel so grumpy!” she says, “There’s a bunch of toys, and kibble… oh look, there’s even a Fluffy Tree! You know, like one of those Cat Trees, but they have safety railings installed in them, since… well, Fluffies. It’s not so bad!” Fuck it. You’re probably going to lose your life for this, but you don’t care. “Oh really?” you yell. “Yeah! Like I’m gonna enjoy it here! In a big, bright coloured room filled with pet stuff for a race that has been universally classified as VERMIN. Surrounded by a bunch of gerbil-horse idiots who have an attention span that makes GOLDFISH look dedicated! OH! AND GET THIS! Y’think you’re justified in doing these experiments ‘because we’re Fluffies! Who cares?’ I CARE! Y’think we aren’t alive? I don’t want to be a fucking pet, I don’t want to be a fucking lab rat, I don’t want to be a Smarty’s herd member, I don’t want to be a god damn fucktoy, and I just fucking HATE myself right now! Y’know why? Because I’m a mother. Fucking. Fluffy. Pony. Existence is pain, and I’m the only one out of all these other shitrats who knows this!” You take a moment to catch your breath. You really hope all that yelling hasn’t made your voice hoarse. The Fluffies around you look INCREDIBLY surprised. They look terrified, but Fairy just looks at you in gleeful bewilderment, like a little kid going to a magic show. The Human is just… staring at you. ================================ You’re speechless. How could you NOT be? A Fluffy Pony spoke, coherently, and bitched about his own life and existence. You’re aware of pessimist Fluffies, but… What exactly was this one? Without warning, you scoop it up, and run to another room. You place the Fluffy on a counter, and start pacing, muttering to yourself. This is… This is insane! This changes everything! Does it? Is this creature even a Fluffy? You need to know more about him, you- “Can you cut it out?” the Fluffy interjects. “The pacing and mumbling, it’s disturbing!” You turn back towards the Fluffy. Orange coat, brown-ish mane, not very good colours for selling. He’d be $2.50 if he got taken to a local Fluffmart. Christ, you can’t believe how poorly the value of Fluffies sunk. “… Who are you?” You ask, trying to start a conversation, a way to learn more about this strange specimen. The Fluffy begrudgingly speaks. “Everyone just calls me Cinnamon.” Ah. It’s normal for wild Fluffies to call each other based off their resemblances to food. Truly, the thought process of Fluffies was an ocean of potential. You think about what to ask. “How can you talk?” Yeah, real specific. All Fluffies would just say ‘they can talk just because’. There’s a high chance this one would just say the exact same thing. Y’should have said ‘How can you talk coherently’, that would’ve been way better. The Fluffy seems to think for a moment, before finally speaking. “Y’know what? No idea. And before you ask, no, I don’t know anything about why my legs… oh, I’m sorry, ‘weggies’, are longer, or why I look skinnier. My current theory is that I’m either some sort of unexpected mutation due to generations of idiot Fluffies being killed by pest control and abusers, or I’m an experiment myself.” An experiment? “Were you born? Did you have a mummah?” “Yes, I had a mother,” it spits, seeming to loath the idea of Fluffspeak, “so… That probably makes the mutation theory more plausible.” You nod, and then sit down. You need to take a moment to process… everything about this situation. Just, all of it. “You do realise you change everything, right?” you tell it. “You’re a Fluffy Pony, the only one in existence, to be capable of speech and thought rivalling an adult human. People would pay BILLIONS to cut you up for science, or just reset you to a factory fresh Fluffy once you step out of line.” The Fluffy blinks. “So… Why keep me here? You just said you could sell me for billions.” “Because I need you alive, and healthy,” you explain. “This is… going to sound really stupid, but I want to help both humanity and fluffkind.” “Oh really?” it sneers, “How’re you going to do that?” “I had two ideas.” You rummage through some notes. “One of them involved killing of the entire species, but after running the math, the breeding rate of the average wild Fluffy was just too high, only way to actually kill every single one would be nuking the entire planet… So, I’m trying to move on to another idea. Finding a way to alter the entire species. Make them smarter, something people would actually want as a pet, decrease the average litter count…” Cinnamon just rolls his eyes. “Again, how are you going to do-“ “You!” You cut him off. “You are a /breakthrough/, Cinnamon. You are living, breathing proof of Fluffy Pony evolution. So… I’d like to make a deal.” “Augh, god… Fine.” Cinnamon meets your gaze. “What’s the deal?” “Okay. I’ll let you, and all those other Fluffies I captured, live here safely. I’ll make sure that under no circumstances will you come to harm, and I’ll give you a safe place to live. But, I am going to need to study you, figure out how I can… let’s say… ‘enlighten’ the rest of the species. What do you say?” =============================== Well, this is rich. A self-claimed scientist believes that you’re the key to salvaging the dumpster fire that is the Fluffy Pony. So, you’ll basically be a lab rat, like what you feared could one day happen. You’re surprisingly not as pissed off as you thought you would be. On the other side of the coin, a warm house, free food, and security. Also someone to actually have an engaging, intelligent conversation with. Y’know what? You’ve lived three years out in the alleys, wastes, and dumps, surrounded by technicolour abominations who can’t even bother to remember the first letter of the alphabet. You’d take being ‘owned’ by a human any day, especially after having to join a herd. You look up to the human. “… Alright. I’ll do it. I agree to your conditions.” She smiles, reaching a hand down to you. “Thanks, little guy. I’ll try to make stay here comfortable. Just… don’t poop on anything, please.” You scoff and shake her hand. “We’re doing this for the betterment of the world,” she says. You hope to god she’s right. ~END~ Uploader Epixx231, August 26, 2018; 07:13 Tags cognition_series intelligent_fluffy safe scientist Source Unknown Locked No Parent None Rating Unknown Comments August 26, 2018; 07:14 - Reply Epixx231: Well that took a while, didn't it? Sorry for the wait, everyone. This marks the end of Cognition! But Cinnamon's story isn't over just yet. Far from it. Stay tuned! August 26, 2018; 07:35 - Reply CwinicawDepwession: Nice, I'll be keepin an eye out for the next bit of the Cinnamonverse.