>your friend already has his lighter under your pocket knife when you round the corner into the alley
>the mare is still licking the amniotic fluid from the last foal in her litter of six
>working quickly, you pick the first foal up from her back and take the spare heated knife from your friend
>"hewwo nice mistuhs" the mare begins but it quickly devolves into "NUUU! NU GIF BABBEH UPSIES! BABBEH NEED MUMMAH!!"
>her mate runs at you with a growl but your friend quickly tips him over with his foot and with a bit of pressure between his shoulder blades you hear his spine snap
>"HUUUU!! peshuw fwend hewp smawty! smawty nu can feew weggies nu mowe!! HUUUHUUUU!!"
>"NUUU! NU HEWT! NU HEWT PWEAS NICE MISTUHS! MUMMAH SOWWY! SOWWY PWEAS SOWWY!"
>her newly born foals are weakly cheeping in fear
>you don't waste time twisting and pulling each of the foal's little legs off
>it struggles weakly, but has been given no milk and its screams have no real force behind them
>the nearly red hot blade sizzles against the stumps and within seconds you have placed the foal down with its mother and grabbed a new one
>same procedure, switching between your and your friend's pocket knives as he reheats the off-knife
>the mare goes insane when she sees her mutilated foal
>"EEEEEEEE!! NUUUU BABBEH!! BABBEH HAF HEWTIES! WY HEWT MISTUH?! UUHUUUUHUUUUU!!"
>by the time you're picking up the fourth foal, she's carefully placed all her foals in a bundle and is hugging your leg
>twist, pull; twist, pull; twist pull
>"UUUUUHUU!! PWEAS NU! NU GIF HEWTIES TO BABBEHS! MUMMAH DO ANYFIN! MUMMAH GIF BESTEST HUGGIES PWEEEEAAASSS!!!"
>once you're done you gather the screaming little pillowfluffs and put them onto their mother's fluff
>"uuhuuu...smawty nu feew wite...peshuw fwen pweas..nee huggies.."
>you and your friend bump fists and leave the broken family to their own devices
>you remember to stop by a couple weeks later with your friend and little sister in tow
>the foals are bigger now, lined up accordingly beside the mare's box with the quadruplegic smarty at the end except for the dead one, which has been pushed back into the giant piles of shit behind each immobile fluffy
>the mare is there too, standing between two of her children so they can suckle
>"mummah wuv babbehs...babbehs wuv mummah...huuuuu..."
>"mummah..why babbeh nu have weggies?"
>"wan wun and pway mummah!"
>"wy cwy? babbeh wuv miwkies!"
>"huuuuuu ha-have wots of m-miwkies..gwow up big an..huuuuuu..."
>the mare finishes feeding her children before placing a rotten apple in front of the smarty
>"f-fank yu peshuw fwen.." the former smarty chokes out "wub.."
>"wub.." the mare agrees, giving him a hug
>the two of them spend a few minutes huuhuuing
>"mummah jus wan babbehs to wun an pway.."
>your little sister's mouth is agape
>you place your hand on her shoulder
>she stifles a sob as the foals begin to break down crying
>"UHUUU!! BABBEH HAF ONWY HEAWT HUWTIES NAO!!!"
>"still think being a single mom is easy?" you ask
>a tear rolls down your sister's cheek
>"and that's why we stay in school and don't grow up to be coalburners, Sally."
“Huu.” he groans out, his nearly fully healed leg still giving him some trouble. FluffFlix played lowly, he watched the screen. Fluffies ran and played on a grassy hill, playing tag with each other.
“Riddik wan pway!” he cheers at the screen. He begins to stack blocks as well as he can. As the third block is stacked Riddick rears up on his hind legs for a moment before knocking the pile over with as much force as he could muster. The blocks sprawl on the floor before him.
“Widdik stwongest fwuffy eva!” he declare to the empty room. He begins knocking the blocks and balls around enthusiastically. After spreading the blocks far away from each other Riddick sets his eyes on the slide that sits in the corner of the room.
“Widdik wan fwy. Widdik fwy!” he runs up to the slide, struggling to run up the actual slide part instead of walking up the latter in the back. After a minute of constrained effort Riddick sits triumphantly at the top of the slide. After catching his breath Riddick stands, readying to jump from the top of the six inch slide.
With a cry of “fwy!” Riddick leaps from the slide. Wings flapping as hard as they could, stretching out as much as possible. For the briefest of moments Riddick did fly. He hits the ground hard, for a fluffy, rolling end over end. Ending up in a heap staring at the ceiling he kicked his legs to right himself.
“Nu wan downsies upsies.” the Alicorn whines before getting enough momentum to right himself. “Huu huu...” he begins to cry, “Weggies haf owchies … Daddeh!” he calls out. He limps heavily from the far side of the living room towards my bedroom. Stopping at where a pillow rests against the couch he lays down to rest for a moment.
>came for fluffys
AHA! so it IS a fetish
>waddup is still better
Motherfucker, EVERYTHING is a fetish.
Fwuff off, u no smawty. U am mawe, bweadwoaf am gif you speshew huggies dummeh mawe
wat you saw to bestest smawty, smawty gib foreba sleepies *proceeds to smash bwearwoafs head it cracking their skull and crushing their brain* now take sowwy poopies *shits on the corpse* dis nu poopie pwace
>godmodding faggy rp
Confirmed 12 year old, this faggot is.
You're kind of retarded, aren't you?
The mare, whose foals have died, steals a foal from a class' den and then brings it to her nest to die.
The mare probably stole from another mare using the man-made nest.
>You have come up with an ingenious idea for power, Fluffies.
>The idea is for them to run on hamster wheels to generate power
>Now, this is a little difficult considering the amount you would need in order to make this possible, so you caught as many feral fluffies you could
>Although a happy fluffy will work for a while, it tends to need things like breaks and sleep. This will just not do.
>So what do you?
>In your Shed of Unspeakable Fluffy Doom, you have walls lined with fluffies on treadmills, hamster wheels, and other devices used to help generate manual power
>You have speakers behind them, and thanks to the shed having a sound proof interior, no one complains about the noise
>In fact, this little venture of yours is popular enough to get city approval, so you're allowed all you'd like
>Its especially good during the winter, where the extra need for heat demands more power, which in turn means you're paid more for your 'generosity'.
>The fluffies are kept in cages whose wheels are hooked up to powerlines, and are allowed to rest for one hour each day. They use this to eat, sleep, and although they're suppose to use this time to relieve themselves, they tend to do so on the device
>It only gets to be a problem when it clogs, which is when you bring out the 'device'
>They fear it, and while you dislike it, it gets results
>You put on your Darth Vader mask and get our your maracas
I am a big dummeh hoomin
My skin is black and my cock is the footlong jared wished he put in children.
*rapes the smarty fluffy to death with beastial nigger cock, thoroughly destroying the fluffy with massive bursts of semen. Eventually it's stomach bursts open with primal nigger cum as it cries wowstest huwties. Since it's mouth still works, it is just another orifice to be raped. I steal it's claimed land as a reperation for slavery done to me by the savage and disgusting white men.*
“Weggie nu wike Widdik nao?” he asks his limbs, “Wy nu wike Widdik weggies? Widdik wuv weggies...” pleading with himself. He cuddles into the pillow getting more comfortable. Laying down he nearly falls asleep again. “Weggie owchies nu mor?” he asks hopefully, “Fank you weggies, Widdik wuv you.”
Riddick would've fallen asleep again, but his curiosity piqued by a loud, sharp gasp coming from his Daddy's bedroom. Picking up his head to hear better Riddick listened for the sound. There it was again.
“What dat?” Riddick asks himself as he stands up slowly, “Weggies huwt mor... huu...” he whines. “Wan Daddeh an' Mommah huggies... Huggies make weggies wike Widdik.” he begins walking again, limping heavily as he does.
Looking up at the closed door he tilts his head, confused. You see, that my door is never closed. Partly because there isn't any reason for it because I live alone. The only other living thing in the flat is Riddick. Secondly, the door doesn't close well. If I do close it it will pop open during the night and make an ungodly noise. Not a fun way to wake up.
“Wy doow cwosed?” Riddick ask as he presses his forehead and horn against it. “Daddeh, Widdik nee' huggies fow weggie owies.” The door barely moves, Riddick presses harder before stumbling back. “Dummeh doow, wet Widdk haf Daddeh huggies!” he demands, puffing up his cheeks. Walking away from the door slowly Riddick turns.
“Wet Widdik haf Daddeh huggies!” he demands of the door again, “Ow Widdik gib wowstest huwties!” There it was again, that sharp gasp. Curiosity was consuming Riddick. That and the need for his pain to go away. “Dummeh doow!” he cries as he charges.
The Alicorn stallion charges the door; head lowered, wings flapping to pick up even more speed. His limp causes him to swerve towards the latch side of the door, giving his impact when it does come the most effect it would ever have.
>You open the door, a cold wind blowing behind you and throwing snow inside the shed
>The fluffies stop at once, and stare in abject horror. They know what is coming
>You move through the shed, slamming the door shut behind you. You don't even have to say a thing, they immediately start to run
>You turn on the voice changer, and speak in his tongue
"POWER CONSUMPTION IS AT AN ALL TIME HIGH, AND YOU ALL HAVE DIPPED."
>Some start to cry, they can only know what that means
>They begin to run faster
>You move to the back of the room, and pull off a blanket; twin giga-amps connected to a sound system glow ominously as you flip it on
>They cry and beg for you to not do what you're about to do, but you know you gotta do what you gotta do. With the power shortages and people dying of the cold in their own homes, you feel you MUST do it
>And you're giving purpose to the Fluffies, and making them useful now, right?
>You raise up your maracas, and let the 5 second delay start.
>5... 4... 3... 2...
Not exactly news there buddy.
stay a while
i got colored work this comic is b&w tho i post on the booru now
the mare isn't the mother of those foals
she sneaks in, sees the nice white one, and steals it
she brings it back to her shitty, poorly located nest, where the other foal she's stolen has already been grabbed by birds and eaten
>The long cord of Raining Blood comes on the speakers, low and letting that drum beats shake the room
>They begin to frantically run on their devices
>Then the main song comes on, and he cranks it to 11
>The sudden shock of having it, which was originally just barely enough to hear, scares them shitless
>They propel their crap as far as the walls of their cage
>One become so scared she is rocketed by her shit against her plastic cage's wall, and smacks her nose hard. She begins to cry
>But no matter, you continue to rock your maracas to the beat of your horrible music, you monster
>Thank god you have earplugs
>As the music grows more intense, they begin to run faster and faster, screaming and crying for the horrible sound to stop
>When at last, the climax comes and the sounds turn into rain.
>And with that, you are finished.
>But not yet.
>You walk over to the fluffy who had hurt herself by inventing crap-propelled rocketry
>You open the hatch and take her, despite her protests and crying
>You tell her that she is going to rest for a while, but it's going to be outside. With the others
>Her eyes widen and she begins to kick and scream
>Good thing shes about three feet
>You open the door and close it quickly, #2 rule, dont let them see the outside. Makes them depressed.
>And you don't want to put them through anymore then you need too, right?
>You walk over around to the side of the shed, to something else. A small hole, with some heating elements pointed into it.
"YOU WILL WORK, BUT OUT HERE."
>You place her down in the hole, on a pad.
>She asks what this was and that she wants her mama.
"YOU WILL SEE HER TOMORROW. NOW. STOMP."
>You stole that idea from Rick and Morty, you thief.
>You sigh and reach for a maraca on your hip. She gasps and begins to stomp
>You put your hand back on your hip, under your blanket tied to your shoulders
>You look up, it was going to snow
>So you pull the awning out, so that it won't bury this fluffy to death.
>You go back inside
Bouncing back from the door Riddick falls onto the tile floor.
“Doow gif Riddik evewywhewe huwties!” he moans pushing himself up. The door creaks open slightly. Riddick limps towards the gap. Struggling to squeeze through the gap Riddick finally makes it into the bedroom.
“Huu huu, Daddeh... Widdik haf big huwties... Wan huggies an' wuv. Huu huu” he whines between sobs as he walks, not looking where he is going. Eventually he picks his head up to look at his Daddy's bed. For a moment he is shocked into silence.
“Daddeh an' Mommah haf speciaw huggies?!” he cheers. Beginning to jump around excitedly, “Speciaw huggies!” he begins to repeat over and over.
Let me tell you, there's nothing more boner killing than a fluffy walking in on you while you're fucking. In surprise Annalisa bucks up, knocking be back. From my position I loose my balance forcing me to wave my arms around like an idiot before falling out of bed.
“Daddeh siwwy.” Riddicks says only a few inches from my face before hugging my face. Annalisa sits up on her knees, sighing deeply.
“Well, there goes that...” she says ruefully as she wraps a blanket around herself.
“At least you didn't fall off the bed.” I reply, picking myself back off. If there was one thing I never wanted to happen, it was for a fluffy to walk in on me having sex. If there was a second thing I never wanted to have happen is to me naked and hard in front of a fluffy.
“Daddeh, Widdik haf big evewhewe huwties...” he whines, putting his front hoofpads up against the bed. He knows the can't climb it but he tries anyway. I pat his head.
“In a minute buddy.” I run my hand through my hair and head to the bathroom. After a few minutes I return to my bed to find Annalisa under the covers, laptop resting on her raised knees, and Riddick cuddled up on her chest.
I growl a little to myself. First time I was really angry at Riddick, all of the times I disciplined him it wasn't an anger thing. But now, I wanted to smack the little fluff puff and kick him out of the room.
“Coming back to bed?” Annalisa asks, smiling at me after I just stand there looking at them. Nodding, nothing I can do about it right now, I slide back into bed. Putting my arms around Annalisa we watch some Netflix.
“Widdik hav biggiest wuv fow Daddeh an Mommah.” he says sleepily before drifting off. Forcing a chuckle I settle into position.
I thought these threads were banned now?
Not trolling. Got a ban a few days ago and Booru threads are the only thing I post in.
Before I was banned for drawing dicks on the booru...
You are a sheep herder, and It's all you have ever known. You live out in the middle of nowhere and there isn't much to do here. Sometimes you go swimming, other times you just look up at the sky and think about life. Your profession is pretty boring, and you only make as much money as you need to live. Life is simple and easy.
Every now and then a fluffy pony herd wanders in, trying to order the sheep to leave, but killing the smarty usually works to make them runaway. Your prefered method is to off them with a .22 rifle because you hate hearing them talk, if that doesnt work, you just practice your marksmanship on a few more of the retarded horse things. Sometimes they wanna be part of your herd, you usually oblige them, but they run away after you do what needs to be done... you dont want them breeding.
Today was going pretty smoothy, as far as tending to your sheep herd goes. Nobody gave birth today, so no mouthwash needed after work. You had ate some lamb fries after dinner and watched the sky change colors. Peaceful, until a mass of neon colors in the corner of your eye distracts you. You get your rifle ready to get some marksmanship experience , but notice that they are not yelling and screaming at your flock. Oh boy this is gonna be good... you put your rifle down and walk to the things.
Where you spamming?
ase nice mistah, beh nu daddeh fo hewd?"
"I am only a sheep herder, and you are fluffy ponies." You say this knowing were it will lead.
"Shehp hab fwuff... hewd hab fwuff... we nu diffuent, pweeze, mista!" The herd consists of three mares(two earthies and one pegasus), two stallions, one being the smarty unicorn, and an other being an earthy. A few chirps can be heard from the mares, indicating a variable amount of foals. You guess they wont be staying too long, then.
"Well, if you want to stay here, you'll need the same treatment as the sheep. Then you'll get food and a warm place to sleep!" You know they won't be staying as you say this, these stupid creatures never stay after the treatment.
"So... nyu daddeh?" The smarty asks this with a tilted head. These things are rather cute, if they weren't dipshits you'd probably keep a few of them.
"Yeah, but before I give you food, you need to follow me." You lead them to a stall, the dirt is darkened with blood of previous fluffies wanting you to be their "daddeh". "So, I need to know how many foals are with you. I need to do something to them to make sure they grow up into pretty, good fluffies." You set a basket down with bloodstained cloth lining the inside of it. "Put your babbies in the safe basket."
One by one, the mares set thieir foals into the basket.
"Nu make saddie wawas bebbeh, baskie safe."
"Goh wif daddeh, bestest babbeh."
"Babbeh nee huggies fwom daddeh, you go wif..."
You set the bowl under a makeshift heating lamp and turn it on.
No, I'm witiko
"Okay, good job, pretty fluffies! Now can the stallion go to this corner, and the mares in this one?" You point at opposite sides of the stall, easily seperated by a gate you keep collapsed in the middle. As they gather into thier respective areas, you pull the gate open and lock it.
You get into the stallions area first and lift up the earthy, purely piss colored. You squeeze the stallion to evacuate it bowels so you dont get dirty from what you are about to do.
"Nu, huuhuu, huwty poopies bad fo fwuffy..."
While it says this, you locate its scrotum and bring it to your face.
"W-ha daddeh doin' do- SCREEEEEE!" You interupt its babbling my biting open its flesh, exposing the testicals, and ripping them out of the screaming animal.
"SCREEE *CHIRP* SCREEEEEE!"
You drop the stallion gently on the ground, as if it were one of your lambs. You pick the smarty up, already evacuated from seeing its toughy being castrated.
"NU! PWEEZE DADDEH! NU TAKE SPECH-SCREEEEEE!" You do the same with the smarty as you did with the other fluffy. You feel as if you are giving back to the world, slightly preventing fluffies from breeding.
"*CHIRP* MAH LUMPS!!! HUUHUU... *CHIRP*" The smarty cries as it tries to hug its special place. The urine stalion is just screaming and chirping, devastated by its castration. You step over the gate, and pick up a pair of sheers laying on the ground. You walk over to one of the mares as it tries to run as 'fast' as it can with its stubby, retarded legs. She screams as you grab her tail.
"Nuuuu! Go away munsta daddeh!" You chuckle before you cut her tail to a nub, removing a good chunk of flesh from her rear.
"*CHIRP* NEE TAIW TAH BEH PWETTY! HUUHUU... WOWSTEST OWWIES! *CHIRP*" The two others huddle together as you loom over them. You do the same to the two others, but you grab the pegasus before it can scurry off to the others.
"My sheep don't have wings. I'm gonna have to take them."
A horrified look of terror and anguish appear on her face. "NU NEED WINGIES! WAN FW-SCREEE! HUUHUUHUUHUUUUUU!" You snip the both of them off with a bit of flesh, you especially hate pegasi, as they are like lemmings, but bigger, dumber, and with wings.
You let the wingless fluffy go back to the shivering and bloody fluffpile. You realize that these are all mothers, and realize that you broke the heating lamp the last time you had foals here. You can smell a suprisingly pleaseant smell, and some smoke while you hear a sizzle. You walk over to the makeshift heating lamp you use as an incubator to find that you completly cooked the foals, most of them with barely any fur. You notice that they smell good enough to eat, so you run to your house to get some ketchup and a knife. You slice the bellies of about thirteen foals open and clean them out the best way you can, and chop them up well. The ketchup and a bit of hay look like spaghetti to you, so it will work for them.
"Huu... *sniff* nummies??? *sniff* SKETTIES!?" a mare notices the smell, and laughs maniacly completely ignoring her stubby tail scabbing over. You laugh as you fling a glob of red, grassy, foal sauce to each one of the fluffies.
"Daddeh, can yu give babbehs back? Nee miwkies." She says this with worry, and a bit of ketchup on her face.
"My special light magic made them grow up fast, they have new mommies and daddies who give them lots of sketties and huggies now. You should be happy for them!"
"Weawwy!!?" The mare says joyously.
"Nah, you all ate them." You snicker back at her.
"Nu... huuhuuu.... wan bebbehs... huuuu.... wan-die... huuhuuhuuuuuuuu..."
You laugh and grab a can of spraypaint from the wooden shelf above the stall. You punt a mare as you spray each of them with the letter "R" for retard.
You normally spray lambs you dont want to keep to mark them for slaughter, but an R is funnier. You look out of the stables and see the sky in twilight. You decide to turn in for the night, after saying something terrifying to ponies.
"That fluff is coming off tomorrow, my sheep dont have colorful fur." You keep the gate open as you leave the crying dumbasses, laughing. All you'll have to worry about tomorrow is your sheep, your expecting a few births, after all. Now time to gargle some mouthwash and go watch "The Room". God, you love that movie.
I've posted two threads that we're taken down almost immediately with a three day ban after I told mods to stop being ass-blasted bronies... Guess a struck a nerve with the little basement dweller...
Your story was... Okay? A bit too brutal for my taste, I mean, biting off his balls? That's horrid.
But the main thing was, it was not paced right. It seemed rushed. Like the idea and like the premise, but give it more detail. Flesh it out a bit.
Can someone explain this one to me
>mammah sacrifices worst babbeh for spaghetti
>mammah does not get spaghetti
>a guy drops his plate of chips after his friend doesn't want it
>the two guys talk about how the foal-for-spaghetti machines produce poison spaghetti
Okay, all good so far, now what the fuck is happening:
>mammah approaches the chips and starts crying
>goes back to babbehs and they are all dead
Did the two humans kill the babies?
What happened with the spaghetti?
Why did the mom cry over the french fries?
Thanks, here's another thing I did.
She didn't have to sacrifice her foal and is mourning for it. Realizing her mistake, she crys. In that world, killing fluffies for fun is not frowned upon, that being they are only seen as pests.
Guess I'll start spamming shit until more story arrives
the foal to spaghetti machine grinds up foals into a meal that looks like spaghetti. it tastes like dead foals but fluffies eat it anyway.
the mother cries over the fries because if she had just waited on more second she would have found food without killing on of her babies.
I'm not proud of this, also fuck hugboxers.
so four babies all died in a matter of minutes as a mom walked to the spaghetti machine and back
They're peeping and chirping in the first panel meaning they're alive when she leaves for the spaghetti machine
>You were about to head back inside, when you heard something, behind you
>It had a blue tuff and was wiggling about head first in the snow
>Looks like you found a new worker, what luck
>You reach down and take a hold of that thing by the tail a... Oh, it's him again. The only one that managed to escape. It must have tried to come back to free the others
>You frown, and hoist the thing up to your face. Its not shitting itself, but is clearly angry. It bonks it's head against your own, it's tiny horn making a little thunk.
"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU, IF YOU LEAVE YOU CANNOT COME BACK"
"I cwom bwak twu hwup fwunds!" It babbles like a ninny
>You shake your head, and walk over to THE HOLE
>It was actually a failed crucible you made a long time ago, and used to fashion and iron dagger and aluminum sword out of. Huh, where'd those things go..
>No matter, you drop that thing into the long spout
>It must have hurt, as it screeched when it landed on the bottom.
>You cover the lid with the heavy, disk-like stone you made
>It's only source of air and light came from the ground level holes, where you used to throw kindling in for fire
"YOU WILL STAY IN THERE, AND NEVER COME OUT."
>You say this as firmly and loudly as you can, and stare at the long stone-and-clay device
>You hear grunting and bumping, it must be trying to knock it's way out!
>If it tries to dig, it would have to grow metal hooves; concrete is very difficult to break through
>Then again, it is placed slightly on the edge of the slab. With enough force, it could knock it down...
>No matter, you sigh with relief at the idea of one more fluffy that won't be in this world for much longer.
But why like this, why him? He just wanted to live.
>It was a menace to society and to the ecosystem. That's what you tell yourself.
> You turn back, and look around your heavily snow-covered backyard. Since you scared that herd a few months ago, you beefed up security.
I can see chirping as regressive behavior.
To my mind, it should go chirp/peep ... then really simple words like "mummah" "milkies" "tummy hurties."
Babbeh, brudder, sissy would be the next, as well as the idea of expressing a need for emotional comfort "huggies." Organisms are typically selfish before they learn to be supportive, so they'd wan huggies long before they would learn to gif huggies.
holy fucking shit here's your play by play
>mother and babies are starving to death
>mother takes ugliest baby (that she still loves) and sacrifices it to the spaghetti machine
>she cries over the lost foal but did what had to be done
>she eats her spaghetti off screen
>two guys walk by the alley with her nest and discard a box of unwanted fries
>they discuss how the spaghetti machine is a sterilization measure - implying the mother is now incapable of having any more children
>the mother returns to find the fries sitting by her nest
>if she had simply waited, she would have had all the food she'd need without having to sacrifice a child
>she cries at this misfortune
>after she's done crying she checks on her children
>in the time it took her to get spaghetti, the rest of her foals have finished starving to death
>she is now a child murderer whose children are all dead and she is incapable of having any more
>she cries at this misfortune
If you abuse a fluffy of any age enough to where they are near the point of death they will revert first to calling out to their mother then further revert to making chirpie baby sounds
The real question is why they don't just make more intelligent fluffies. The answer is that they would be too human to mindlessly kill. They really are already, but I think that one of the main eliments of dehumanizing them is their speech impediment.
>in the time it took her to get spaghetti, the rest of her foals have finished starving to death
how fucking far away is this goddamn spaghetti machine
the foals were alive and chirping in the first panel so clearly a quick walk and all of her foals managed to die
the fucking timeline is ridiculous. I love most of wolfram's work but you seriously mean to tell me all four foals died in the time it took to a spaghetti machine and back? Also keeping in mind the foal she killed was alive and active (not crying about wanting milkies or on the verge of death) when she brought it to the spaghetti machine?
Yeah, like I said, regressive. THAT part makes sense. I just can't picture foals working out whole sentences about abstract concepts. They should be pretty stupid to begin with.
are you fucking retarded? Can you not follow a 4 pane comic?
1) see fluffy that is abandoned and shit on because it is brown
2) rape abandoned fluffys asshole
3) kidnap fluffy
4) put in machine that grinds it into spagetti
That isn't an excuse. They made a creature with almost 70% the intelligence of a human, probably more, and yet they can not make more intelligent version?
The fluffies are too stupid, they could never survive in the wild, period.
>The fluffies are too stupid, they could never survive in the wild, period.
Literally the point.
You are obviously the autist who was (seriously) asking a million questions about the other comic. It's always the humorless autistic fuck who accuses someone else of trolling for doing exactly what they did without shame.
That's pretty much the core philosophy of Aspies.
So I've been thinking of making a tumblr account to fuck with oterkin. I'd identify as fluffy and talk in the language and all that shit and see if the otherkin fucktards actually accept that shit. Anyone else in?
From what I understand, they are pests thusly
>Can annoy people very quickly with baby-like talk
>Most feral ones have horrible personalities
>Little bowel control
>They literally eat ANYTHING and EVERYTHING
>They strip the land around them of vegetation and leave only feces and urine
>So unintelligent, they do not have proper hygiene and can be carriers of infection
And theres more, but I cant think of any.
Does that help?
70% of your intelligence perhaps, but not mine.
The Fluffy is a bio-toy intended for young girls and adult collectors. It is the result of millions of dollars spent on research and development toward creating the most lifelike toy in the world while keeping it from being classified as a true animal or a sentient, real life-form.
They are fragile intentionally. A weak fluffy can't harm a child. A broke fluffy has to be replaced.
The trouble came when PETA released fluffies into the while who were not permanently spayed/neutered/otherwise sterilized as their market-brand fluffies were.
In six months there will be an otherkin community of fluffykin.
Three months later there will be foalkin.
I've seen this shit happen over and over and over again. You dangle something completely fucking retarded to these deranged fucks and they'll latch onto it and never let it go. We laugh about it now and then it becomes something genuinely concerning.
I implore you to reconsider.
Lemmings are retarded as fuck as well. They will run off cliffs en mass.
The only reason fluffies are a pest is because their birth rate is higher than geometric. At like a month or two, depending on headcanon they can reproduce. There is zero time between birth and next impregnation.
But most of all, humans keep breeding fluffies. They are eithe released into the wild or run away.
didn't save the link sorry bro
here's one shitting on the wall instead of the litterbox tho
>I've seen this shit happen over and over and over again. You dangle something completely fucking retarded to these deranged fucks and they'll latch onto it and never let it go. We laugh about it now and then it becomes something genuinely concerning.
It's what happened to traps.
oh fuck no
Jesus take the fucking wheel
>It has been a few hours and you were asleep, of course, in the Darth Vader mask, hawaiian shirt, shorts, and black blanket tired to your shoulders.
>Your really feeling it, like Mr. Krabs, when suddenly you're not feeling it, and hear a scream outside
>A scream that came after a crash
>You sit up, and realize what has happened
>You grab your maracas and run down the stairs and out the backyard
>Halfway through the deep snow you see that blue renegade; he had knocked over your cruicable! You can tell because his face looked pretty bruised, and his horn bent to the side
>You activate the voice changer and yell out to the world at 3AM, the light at your back.
"BY THE POWER OF THE FORCE I COMMAND YOU TO STOP!"
>The little blue guy stops, turns it's head to stare at you, and begins to frantically waddle forward, to the (somewhat) fixed hole in the fence, by the bushes
>You aren't going to give him the luxury this time
>You lung forward, making as many scary noises as you can.
>You want this guy to shit himself, he ruined something you spent two months building!
>And he could escape out into the wild, rally more fluffies and assault your house!
>At least thats what you tell yourself
>You have one hand free, as that maraca is on your hip
>Your reach out, the tension in the air coming to a head as you grab hold of it's leg
>It immediately voids it's bowels upon the ground and your hand, but you don't care.
>Your angry, your teething with rage
>Not only did it escape, not only did it awake you from your sleep and nearly destroy your operation of bringing power to those cold people in your town
>But it just shat in your bare hands, and you weren't going to have it
>You begin to spin around and around, all the while the screaming and crying fluffy begs for you to let it go
>All the while you shake your maraca
>Louder and louder it chimes, faster and faster you spin
>Until you let it go
>And it finally becomes the flying fluffy it never wanted to be
well, they are a shitload of money and also a mutation. I don't think they could be mass produced. Also, not everyone wants the best (for some reason). Think of all the shitty dog breeds people keep, or worse they adopt a handicap mut.
When that happens I'm sure someone could just link them to the booru or even link them to a fluffy thread here. Those bastards are so covered in politically correct bullshit they'll probably kill themselves immediately
>Anything from tumblr
>The majority of reddit
>Basically all of kotaku
Think about it. Three years ago you could act like an SJW or have stupid opinions on the internet and everyone knew you were just acting retarded. Now these people are actually listened to.
YOU ARE MISSING THE POINT. How could they be a problem if they can't survive more than one generation?
That is the opening scene to saving private Ryan, he screams for his mom as he dies.
Fluffies are as intelligent as toddlers, and they can speak english, they are far similar than any species I know of.
They defecate so much they can drop the sanitation level of any american or european city's waterworks to third world tier, not to mention clog sewers with their waste and dead bodies
And they seem to breed faster than any other mammal their size. It's not that killing them is *only* fun, it's just that if they were actually real they'd be ridiculously dangerous public health hazard, easily as dangerous as bubonic plague vermin
>It doesn't land in the snow, you threw it too hard
>It doesn't land against the shed either, you threw too high
>No, it smacks itself right into the rose bushes, who have long since died. The thorny ones
>It cries, saying its hurt and that it wants to leave and that its sorry and all that crap.
>You don't care. You're angry.
>You march over through the snow, now with both maracas in hand
>You are about to play the most heavy metal thing these instruments are capable of.
>The Ballad of Fluffy death
>You have dug a tunnel and placed the body in there. You might have been angry at it, but the thing was alive(mostly), and so it should be treated with (some) respect
>You decided to enlarge the hole that lead to the forest nearby, which is where the first herd came from
>You put that body at the entrance, to serve as a warning
>Although it looks like it is quietly sleeping in a hole, you remember in horrible, vivid detail how you played the drums using maracas on that thing's cut body
>You think you can hear something coming, and decide to abscond back to your house
>You hope your plan works
>You know it will
>And if it doesn't, a trap was set
>Snow rigged to an awning to fall if anything gets passed the body and deeper into the tunnel, on both sides
>That'll show 'em
>Now go back to sleep, Darth Maraca
>You have a job to do in the morning, bringing power to the town
>A blizzard is coming, a storm of unimaginable proportions
>Everyone will need their power to make heat
>And your fluffies are their ticket
The military tested so called "War Ponies" in Afghanistan. The results were mixed. As you know the army has been using service dogs for years, but the main drawback is intelligence, and communication. Your standard military working dog has the intelligence of a 3 year old, but lacks the ability to verbally communicate with its handler. Enter Hasbio. Using the standard fluffy genome as a starting point they created an animal that in many ways outclasses any working dog. To begin with they enlarged the fluffy from the size of a housecat to timber wolf. Next the coloration went from rainbow to drab tan, brown, and green. Musculature was beefed up. And most important intelligence. We all know the standard fluffies have the mental capacity of a 3yo, with some reaching 5yo equivalence. Military fluffies on the other hand have the mental capacity of 12-13yo. This make them easier to train, and greatly increases communication. They still talk with a lisp because of the shape of the mouth, but can follow relatively complex orders. I have a few stories ,as told by soldiers, if f you want to hear them.