accidental_abuse attempted_hugbox braindead broken_by_all canadian_ltd_the_judas_of_whiskey cat customer_service extra_credit_challenge foal_in_a_can high_voltage jellenheimer snake wan_die


Day 1: Mon

9:45 PM. So the professor told us we can get extra credit for taking care of a fluffy for 30 days. I figure an A+ in this class can make up for a C- in accounting. Challenge accepted.

The FluffMart is just off campus so it was easy to swing by and pick up a fluffy and a starter kit. It smelled of febreeze and was full of all ages of fluffies, from tiny foals that couldn't talk to multiple generations of fluffy families being sold together. I picked up a full grown light blue pegasus fluffy named Elf. The babies were cute an all but the clerk said this fluffy was already fully potty trained and fixed. I gotta admit, he was kinda cute the way he talked about "Be Ewf's nu daddeh?" and then prancing for joy when I said yes.

The fluffy, a basic litter box and food bowl set plus a simple bag of toys and blocks and a few cans of Sketti rang up to just over $100. Thank god the professor is covering the startup costs otherwise it would be ramen and hotdogs till exam time.

Elf settled in quickly, chased some balls and squealed with joy when I opened up the can of Sketti. He's asleep on my lap right now as I type this. It's nice to have a little creature loving you unconditionally.

Day 2: Tuesday

So I left the window open to cool the apartment while I was at school. Apparently my neighbors cat took this as an invitation to come in via the fire escape and "play" with my fluffy. I found the Elf in the corner, hooves over his eyes, in a puddle of urine and faeces. The cat was just sitting there, occasionally hitting him when he tried to move. I have no idea how long the cat tortured Elf but I know my mom's cat would spend hours on a mouse before killing it.

I chased the cat out the window and ran over to Elf. I couldn't find any claw marks or broken bones but he was in obvious distress, just sitting there, chanting "Wan Die, Wan Die" over and over again. I washed him up as best as I could but it made no difference. It was late enough that all I could do is put him in his fluffy bed and hope he feels better in the morning. I left a plate of Sketti next to him, hoping it would help him cope.

Day 3: Wednesday

8:00 AM: No change. The sketti hasn't been touched and he didn't use the litter box. Cleaning up shit is not a good way to start the morning.

3:35 PM: Between classes I did some research. It sounds like the "Wan-Die" loop isn't something they just snap out of no matter how much care they get and most recommend euthanasia. One poster, "Zyklon88" claimed to successfully broken fluffy ponys out of the loop with direct application of high voltage. He then proceeded to describe in nauseating detail how he drove a fluffy to and cured a fluffy from wan die 48 times before it finally perished. Brain bleach needed.

On the plus side, I have a neon sign generator from an old art project that looks like it might do the trick. I'll have to try it tonight.

6:57 PM: There was no change so I figured electroshock was my only option. The instructions said to hook up one electrode just behind the ears and the other just below the eyes and hit them for 5 shocks of 5 seconds each. Lets see how this works

7:15 PM: The room smells of burnt hair and cooked meat. I had to yank the batteries out of the fire alarm to get it to stop beeping and I'm pretty sure I'm going to get a letter from my landlord due to the screaming.

The first shock stopped Elf from crying, so progress, but he was still comatose. The second shock led to a spark that caught his fluff on fire. I tried to pat it out but the transformer was still active so the fluffy was hooked up to 5000 volts, leading to a nasty shock. In the time it took me to recover from the shock, unplug the transformer and grab a pitcher of water to put out the fire it had completely engulfed the poor fluffy. It was still screaming, covered in burns and melted fur from head to tail. I ended up clubbing it to death with the transformer to put it out of it's misery.

I'm going to get drunk. My paper will be late. Just letting you know why.

Day 4: Thursday

5:44 pm: So to get the extra credit I to have a live fluffy for a minumum of 6 days. Great. At least you waved the late penalty after I showed you the pictures of the scorch marks.

Went back to the fluff mart. I hope they didn't recognize me. Browsed through the discount section this time. There was a bright red Pegasus mare with a green mane and wings named Flopsy. The clerk said he was probably a Christmas fluffy that was returned after the new year, apparently a common occurrence. Flopsy talks a lot about her old owner, a little girl named "Mawwy" and how he must have been a bad fluffy because she gave him away. The clerk assured me that he'd re-imprint pretty quickly.

Day 5: Thursday

8:12 AM: Flopsy adjusted pretty quickly. When I woke up this morning he was calling "Daddeh" instead of "Nu Daddeh". I'll take it. Left the radio on to keep him company.

5:33: Flopsy seemed happy to see me come home, squealing and running around before falling over and giggling. She said that the "talkie box" scared her though. I'll leave the radio off tomorrow.

Day 6: Friday
9:45 am: Flopsy wouldn't let go of my leg when I left this morning. I had to promise her sketti when I get home to peal her off. Hope I'm not setting a bad precedent.

6:56 pm: I thought it would be cute to rile up Flopsy before I went into the apartment, so I called out "Daddy's Home! Get ready for Sketti" through the door until I could hear the squeals of joy as she ran to greet me. I pushed the door open and jumped in to greet my little ball of fluff.

This proved to be a mistake.

The door caught the fluffy right on the snout, whipping her head around with a sickening crack. I think this killed her instantly. I hope this killed her instantly. She twitched a few times, shat all over my boots and then stopped moving.

Day 7: Saturday. Fluffy Count:2

Morning: Spent a few hours in the morning putting together a makeshift safe room. You can do wonders with scrap wood and a willingness to forsake a deposit. Can't pick up a fluffy today, between work and homework I'll be too busy to deal with it.

Evening: It's weird. I've had a fluffy pony for less than a week total but the apartment already feels empty without one.

Day 8: Sunday

11:30 am: FluffMart closes early today so I won't be able to go there after work. I'll have to go to a foal-in-a-can machine. I hate to do that, everyone online says they tend to be malnourished and stunted due to lack of stimulation and low quality milk, but dammit I need this grade, and hopefully I can give it a better life than the standard bratty kid or bored abuser. I think I'll name him Felix. My ancient history professor said that it means "Lucky" in Greek.

8:30 pm: Got the can, a brown earthie because it's cheap. Can't see if it's a boy or a girl yet. I spent the money I saved on good quality formula mixture, hopefully it'll help with development. The can is sitting on the counter right now, I'll crack it open after the milk is done warming on the stove.

8:45 pm: Remember the random earthquake? You may not have felt it, it was just a 3.1, not enough to cause damage but enough to cause a foal-in-a-can can to start rolling and drop to the floor. That was enough to cause the foal to snap all four legs and spine, but not quite enough to kill it. I could see bone sticking out and blood was leaking from it's mouth with each distressed "CHEEP" it made. No way it could survive a trip to the fluff tech. I popped the lid, filled the can with water and held the poor fluff under water with a spoon until it stopped twitching.

On the plus side since it was corked there was no shit to clean up.

Day 9: Monday. Fluffy Count: 4

Evening: Picked up a new fluffy. Cream colored Pegasus. I felt guilty so I bought a flying harness to keep him entertained.

The clerk recognized me and offered to sign me up for the abusers special. 15% off if you get a new fluffy within two weeks. I don't know what is worse, the existence of the plan or the fact that she thought I was an abuser.

I decided to name the fluffy Icarus, and just to keep from tempting fate I set up the flight harness well away from any lamps or heat source.

The design was simple, it screwed into a lamp socket on the ceiling. There was a small motor that caused the harness to swing in a slow, 3 foot radius circle a few feet off the ground.

The Fluffy loved it! He kept fluttering his tiny little wings and squealing "Icawus fwy! Icawus fwy!". I took him off after about 10 minutes, which proved wise as he immediately ran to the litterbox and emptied his bowels. I can't imagine how bad it would have been if he was slinging around and a rocket jet of shit covered the room. The swinging tired him out and he went to lie down with a "Wuv you daddieh".

Day 10: Tuesday

3:45 AM. I work to the sounds of "Daddeh look, Icawus Fwy! GHRK". I ran out to see the fluffy somehow managed to pile up his bedding, toys and bowls and climb up to the harness. What the fluffy wasn't able to do is put the harness around his body. Instead shoved his head into one of the leg loops and jumped, snapping his neck.

I'll leave the body for the morning. I'll have more energy after sleep. Assuming I can sleep.

8:24 AM. Sometimes you have to appreciate the little things. By some fortune all of the postmortem shit landed in the water bowl he used so cleanup was easy. I'll pick a new fluffy up after school.

4:45 PM. Spent half my grocery money on fluffies so I am down to ramen noodles for the week. Picked up a fluffy. Blue earthie with a green mane out of the bargain bin. This time, when the fluffmart rep asked if I wanted to insure my fluffy for 13.99 per month I said yes.

I named this one Botheus after the philosopher in this weeks chapter. He saw my ramen and started shouting "Bowthius Demand Sketties!". I tried to explain that ramen wasn't spaghetti but he kept demanding it, even taping his foot and puffing his cheeks out. I finally scooped some into his bowl just so he'd leave me alone while I studied. Hope I didn't get a smartie.

Day 11: Wednesday.
[Customer 24601] Hi, I would like to get an insurance payout due to the death of a Fluffy. I found him drown in the water bowl this morning. Policy number 3263827
[FluffMart Rep Tina] Ok Mr Anon I would be more than happy to assist you.
[FluffMart Rep Tina] Your case has been denied. Please make sure to pay the remaining 12 minimum payments to avoid extra fees.
[Customer 24601] What? It was your company's water bowl, I followed the placement and fill instructions to the letter, you didn't even ask any questions, how can you deny it?
[FluffMart Rep Tina] Our policy excludes any death attributable to "Act Of God". Since fluffies are considered godless abominations and a direct slur against god's glory any time a fluffy dies for any reason it is an act of vengeance by god and therefore deniable.
[Customer 24601] Seriously?
[Customer 24601] Is there any case that would cause you to pay out?
[FluffMart Rep Tina] Not that I am aware of. No.
Customer 24601 has left the chat.

Day 12: Thursday. Fluff count: 6

Not going back to FluffMart after that. Had to go to a shelter, they are more expensive because they aren't subsidised by over priced toys and tend to be more protective against a large segment of the client base, e.g. abusers, but what can I do?

Got an adult fluffy. Red and white unicorn mare. Clerk said she was fully grown but still pretty small, may have started out as a foal-in-a-can. She seemed happy that I chose her but freaked out when I put her in the box. The clerk said it's common; the last memory of their first owner is being packed away. I elected to carry her to the car. Even if she wiggles out I think I can safely say I can catch her before she runs away.

On the way out a bald eagle swooped down, snatched the fluffy out of my hand and flew off into the sunset.

Couldn't bare to go back after that. Both because of the guilt and because my credit card is about two bucks away from being overdrawn. Payday is tomorrow.

Day 13: Friday.

Got lucky this time, the pet store had 50% off a fluffy if you purchased a store brand bag of kibble. Probably not the most nutritious but with the way things are going I'll take every savings I can get.

Day 14: Saturday

8:00 AM: Last fluffy died. Salmonella infected kibble. The manufacturer is sending me a 5 coupon for a future bag. Cleaning supplies for the even more violent shits than usual cost twice that much.

6:15 PM: Raided the discount bin. There was a weird looking red one, no neck, no ears. They said it had a name but it was something weird. Jelly Hammer? Doesn't matter, it was two bucks, so toss it in the carrier and take it home. Wifi has been acting spotty this evening. I also started to hear a weird ringing sound, hope nothings wrong with the electrical wiring.

7:00 PM: Ringing getting louder. Doesn't feel like tinnitus. I'm also seeing static on the TV. I hope I don't have to call the cable company. Jelly is one of the more laid back fluffies I've seen. I haven't heard him speak a word and he doesn't seem to move anywhere. Every now and then I see him in a different spot but never saw him walk to it, even when he made it out of the enclosure and to the top of the fridge. He just sits there grinning.

I might lie down, getting a headache.

11:38 PM: Wake up people! Wake from your slumber! The watcher is ready, the watcher is here! The watcher is inside of all of us, there is only one watcher but we see him as many! We cannot but must know the watcher! It is beyond our ken, it is the omega, its is the alpha. Wake from your slumber, the watcher is hear now, but almost not yet!

38:72 P{a}M: Jellenhimer flu'ffy'booro ph'nglui fhtagnor! Jellenhimer nilgh'ri kadishtu nilgh'ri mgr'luh ng! Fthagen Jelenhimer! Fthagen Jellenhimer! Fthagen Jellenhimer!

Day 14: Sunday:

God, did I sleep through Saturday? Last I remember that damn fluffy diareeah'd it's self to death. Gonna have to raid the cheep section.

For some strange reason all of my neighbors are avoiding me today and giving me funny looks. Hope I don't smell like fluffy shit.

Day 15: Monday.

Picked up some flowers to put around the apartment, if I am going nose blind to the smell of dead fluffies hopefully the flowers that I got will help ameliorate it. They had a 2 for 1 special on fluffies, so I got a red and a green fluffy to match the red and green plant. I am going to name them Euphorbia and Pulcherrima after the genus and species of the flowers. Hopefully if I get two one will survive long enough to finish this damn assignment.

Having two fluffies is a novel experience. They would run around throwing the ball back and forth to each other, laugh when one catches it and hug it out if one trips. They liked the new plants too, playing jungle fluff till they went to bed. I am beginning to have hope for the first time in a week.

Day 16: Tuesday:

4:45 PM. You know, the botanist really should have mentioned that Euphorbia Pulcherrima, A.k.a common Poinsettia is toxic to housepets, especially fluffies. Especially if the method of death was through simultaneous vomit and diarrhea. Euphorbia managed to survive until I got home, desperately giving Pulcherrima Get well huggies between shitting and puking. "No go foweve sweepies Pulchewima! Why no huggies make tit betta?" were her last words, before the final prolapsing shit.

Day 17: Wednesday:

Beginning to regret voting for mayor Garadel. He promised to clear the streets of the fluffy menace and by god he delivered. It was nice after the scouring to be able to walk around without being accosted by a smartie demanding food but right now being able to pick up a feral for free sounds a lot better than having to go to yet another store and buy yet another biopet out of some strange hope that I can get a few extra credit points.

Anyways, the exotic pet store has good prices on feeder grade fluffies and won't look at repeat customers as abusers. I grabbed the healthiest of the bunch and tried not to think too much about the choices that got me here.

The fluffy seemed to have something akin to PTSD. The store owner apparently liked to torture the fluffies by making them watch as he fed one to his ball python. The poor fluffy was convinced I was going to turn him into snakefood. I ended up making some pathetic spaghetti out of ramen and old ketchup packets but it was enough to make the fluffy get out of the corner and stop muttering "No wan be snakie munsta numies".

I pet him while he ate, promising that whatever happens, he wouldn't end up in the belly of a snake. He seemed hopeful before I put him to bed.

Day 18: Thursday:

7:30 am: woke up to find a fat and content looking ball python curled up inside of the fluffy's enclosure. No sign of the fluffy beyond a bulge in the snakes midsection. Well call me a liar.

You know what, I think I am going to go to class and worry about this after I get home.

5:35 pm: As I walked up the stairs I saw a nervous looking man checking the heating vents. He looked at me with a worried expression.

"So, have you happened to see a snake around" he asked. I silently nodded and jerked my chin to indicate he should follow. He walked a few steps behind me, gushing about how worried he is and how his snake was usually a good girl but must have snuck out and is probably hungry and scared. I opened the door and wordlessly pointed to the snake.

He ran over and picked it up, kissing it's scaly head and cooing about how he missed his darling. Then he noticed the bulge in the snake's midsection and the scattered food and toys. His expression soured.

"Did Miia do this?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Was it a designer fluffy?" He asked again, clutching his snake and looking nervous.

I shook my head no. The temptation to claim it was a $5000 rainbow dash Pegasus was there but I was too emotionally drained to lie.

"Fifty bucks?"

I held out my hand. Ten times what I payed for it wasn't half bad.

To be honest, my main thought was that the snake probably had a good idea. If I hadn't pitched the corpses I would be able to fry up the fluffs and have something other than off brand ramen for dinner. Oh well, he payed me enough to top off my bus card, get another fluffy and a pizza, all without the normal cleanup. If all of the fluffies died like this I wouldn't be tempted to get a fifth of punishment grade Canadian Whiskey instead of pizza.

Day 19: Friday:

6:36 pm: Took the fifth. Bottle of Canada LTD whiskey that me and my friends affectionately nicknamed Punishment Whiskey. The finest 5 dollar bottle on the market.

Managed to get the fluffy for extra cheep because they were doing the monthly culling. Seeing a pallet full of fluffies that were being wheeled away for the crime of not being cute or lucky enough to make it and being cheaper to shred than to feed managed to melt even my jaded fluffy killing heart. Picked up a grey Pegasus with a stump where it's left wing should be. Some rough shipping and it was doomed from the start. Named the fluffy Chaser since I couldn't afford an actual Chaser.

Drunk O'Clock:ah this is the Jidudsas of liquor that witch KISSESS and BETRAIYS! Chaster is a good lithtke fuckker and danecne for my amusement! more lickuqor bring me more! and hwh y nm thiere pants! NO pants no!

Day 20: Saturday.

Last night was a blur. I managed to mix the punishment whiskey and ramen broth with a old can of tomato soup into something tolerable. I call it the Extra Credit. I remember Chaser really wanted to try my "burnie wawa" and I almost agreed - before remembering that this was a surefire way to end up with a new fluffy tomorrow. I woke up on the floor, Chaser sleeping on my chest and a pack of elephants trampling the inside of my skull. I prodded him very carefully to make sure he was still alive and not another accident. The fluffy stirred a bit.
"wet fluffy sweep. Daddeh stay up too late," The fluffy mumbled while adjusting himself. I carefully pulled him off of my chest and set him down on the carpet.
The rest of the day consisted of constantly checking on Chaser to make sure that he was still alive. No accidental drowning, impalement, clear air lightning strikes or spontaneous fluffy combustion. Just a slightly tired fluffy who clearly enjoyed the attention. He did get confused when I cried after he made it a full two days. I explained to him that some eye wawa is happy wawa. He still insisted on hugging me to make me feel better. I didn't stop him, I think we both needed it.

Day 21: Monday.

9:00 AM. I almost skipped class today to stay home with Chaser today but even my still hungover ass can't justify risking my grades for extra credit. I taped over all of the vents, made sure that the water bowl had just enough water so he wouldn't get dehydrated but not so much that he could drown. Anything remotely swallowable or toxic was put up in a locked closet, all of the electrical outlets had child safe plugs and anything sharp or heavy was moved far back from the edge of any counters or set on the floor. Just to be extra safe I turned the gas off and taped shut the bathroom door.

6:30 pm

I came home to a wrecked apartment and blood, shit and piss everywhere. Chaser was lying in the middle of it, his fur half ripped off and covered in white crystals, quietly huuing and chanting wan-die, wan die. I knew better than to try and fix it this time and snapped his neck.

As near as I can tell, Chaser was playing with his bouncy ball and it bounced out of his enclosure. He managed to climb over the fence thanks to using the child safe plug as a hoof hold to follow it into the apartment. He continued to bounce it around until it managed to get lost behind the stove. When I turned the gas off I must not have pushed it back in all the way and there was a big enough gap to let chaser stick his head and a leg in to try and reach the errant ball. Having successfully retrieved the ball he tried to back out of the gap when some of his fluff caught on the sharp edge of the sheet metal making up the oven. He tried backing away to get away from the pain which caused his thin skin to tear away from his body, which lead to more pain, more pulling and more skin loss, creating a vicious cycle that ended with a third of his skin attached to the oven, another third of it still fully attached and the remainder flopping about like a half peeled banana.

He then proceeded to tear about the apartment leaving bits of fluff, streaks of blood and splashes of waist product everywhere. At some point his panicked pinballing caused him to knock over the bag of salt that I moved to the floor to prevent it from falling on him. Instead it scattered the salt crystals all around the kitchen and all over his exposed nerve endings. This final bit of pain shocked his system enough to put him deep into wan-die territory.

On one hand, Fuck. On the other hand, all the banging around left him very tender and the salt rub was perfect.

Day 22: Tuesday.

Eight days left. Eight days. I just have to keep them alive for eight days. I could get one and pray for survival like I have been doing, but the classical definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. I could do something more extreme like empty a foal-in-a-can machine and hope at least one survives till the due date but I am sure that some final destination-esque Rube Goldberg happenstance will kill them off one by one.

Right now I don't care about the extra credit, I don't care about the teacher's opinion, I don't even care if people think if I am some sort of sick abuser, I just want to get this done. Going to do a bit of research.

Day 23: Wednesday.
The Project begins.

day 24: Thursday.

I hocked everything I owned, got a title loan on my car, traded in the bonds my grandmother gave me, maxed out my credit card, applied for three more and maxed those out. Took out a payday loan and convinced my boss to advance me next weeks wages. I now have more personal debt than student debt.

I found a mad scientist fluffy breeder upstate. He came highly recommended by abuser and fluffy connoisseur alike. After a long discussion and a lot of money changing hands he sold me a fluffy especially bread to survive every kind of abuse. He also set me up with a state of the art life support system. It looked like some sort of mechanical medical rape machine, tubes in each of the fluffy's holes and several piercing the skin in different places. Indicator light kept track of everything from it's pulse to it's brain activity.

The fluffy had a machine to make sure his lungs were breathing, his heart was pumping, even regulating the digestive system. He showed me pictures of fluffies that were placed on the machine after what I can only hope were horrible accidents and not someone's idea of a good time. Some were in worse shape than any of the fluffies I have gone through and were still somehow alive. I even sprung for the filtered oxygen supply, emergency adrenaline and fluffyOxy painkiller infuser.

As long as the waste tank was empty, the food bin was full and the power was on the fluffy would not die. The system had a twelve hour battery backup but just to be sure I had an engineering student set up a combined solar, wind and autostart propane generator to keep it powered no matter what. That took the rest of my money plus a promise to do his English midterm. The only way the fluffy would die would be if the building burned down. If that happened then I wouldn't have to worry about the angry calls from my land lord that I have been dodging.

I set up a tablet with FluffTv for it to watch and made sure to scratch behind its ears whenever I could. It couldn't chase a ball or play with blocks so it was the best I could do to give it a good life.

The machine had an app that gave me real-time monitoring and notifications plus a webcam feed. There was a greyed off area full of abuse options that I tried not look at.

It took me the whole day but by damn I will finish this assignment.

Day 25: Friday

Stress hormones are fairly low, all indicators are green. I can see some sadness in the fluff's eye but at least it was safe.

The gentle thrum of the wind turbine on the fire escape is a constant reminder that this fluffy will live.

Day 26: Saturday

7:45 Pulled an extra shift. Gonna need to pay off everything somehow.

2:30. Got an alert at work, heart rate and stress indicators skyrocketed. I pulled up the webcam and spotted a black widow spider sinking it's fangs into the fluffy. I tapped the painkiller button and the adrenaline button and crossed my fingers. The spider bit a few more times but the effect was less and less, I guess it was running out of venom.

I rushed home. The fluffy was covered in bug bites but still alive and the readouts were moving back to normal. I put some ointment on the spider bites and set the machine to give it a course of FluffMox antibiotics. I will call this one a success.

Don't know where the spider came from but I found it sitting motionless on top of the machine. I crushed it with a broom from as far away as I could.

Day 27: Sunday
8:20 AM Still alive, wagged his tail when I scratched his ears. My boss said I haven't looked this happy in weeks. He then told me that since I got the payment advance I would get to clean out the bathroom.

Even without dead fluffies I have to deal with shit.

4:30 PM came home to hazmat crews cordoning off my building. Some Walter White wannabe was trying to make meth and flooded the building with toxic gas. The snake guy was off to the side, weeping because his precious Miia didn't make it.

I checked the app. All the life support signs green. Looks like investing in the NBC filters payed off big time.

The cops say we should be able to go back tomorrow. Sucks having to sleep in the car but I know that the machine has a weeks worth of food ready.

Day 28: Monday

6:34 back home. Had to throw out my limited food supplies due to potential contamination. May have to stop by the food bank to get through the week but by damn he is gonna make it. I think I am going to name him Prometheus.

9:23. Power went out. It's too dark for solar but the wind is going fast enough to run the windmill and keep the battery fully charged. Prometheus is a bit scared of the dark and sad that FluffTv is off but I don't want to risk the extra power drain. Not when I am this close.

Day 29: Tuesday
7:30 AM. Home stretch! Prometheus wasn't active this morning, I think he is tired from last night but the respiration and heartbeat was solid. I'm sure he'll be awake when I get home.

4:13 PM: Shit. He's not responsive, gotta make some phone calls.

10:39 PM:

So apparently a vertical wind turbine generating 500 watts in 15 mile per hour winds create an infrasound vibration with a frequency of 5 hertz. And apparently the resonance frequency of a fluffy skull is 5 hertz. The engineer and the fluffy breeder spent a few hours examining the set up, looking over logs and indicator lights and arguing about cosines and major harmonics and strain relief and effective shielding before trying to explain it to me.

What exactly does this mean? I don't really know. The The end result is that the vibrations from the wind turbine liquefied the brains of Prometheus.

As long as he is hooked up to the machine his blood will flow, his lungs will pump oxygen and his digestive system will continue to provide him with sustenance. By all accounts, he can remain in this state for several years longer than most fluffies, since his system strain is minimized and the risk of accidents are zero. He is not, by any major definition, dead. However, I don't think that I can really call him alive.

Final conclusion: Either God hates fluffies, God hates me, or both.


- Reply
Anonymous1: Laughed my ass off, make more
- Reply
Anonymous2: this was a good and interesting read.
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Anonymous3: I enjoyed this
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The_Neutralist: "Daddeh wook! Icawus fwy! GHRK!"

I Kek'd
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NottooFluf2: Man, this is gold! Should consider make it a serial. Man this is the best I had read in a long time here in the booru. You have my respect.
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CobaltThoriumWhoopse: Thanks all, I'm new to this whole writing thing so getting positive feedback is a good thing. I think if I ever have another story like this, I will break it up and post it in chapters.
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Anonymous4: Should’ve called him Sisyphus; the narrator or the fluffy, I don’t know.
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Anonymous5: Kekd, great story man