Title:           The Final Fluff-tier, Part 1
Author:          Fuckasaurus_Fuck
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/KR7GVhy1
First Edit:      Saturday 16th of March 2013 03:31:09 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Saturday 16th of March 2013 03:31:09 PM CDT

Captain's Log: UNAF Research Vessel Epsilon
In orbit around Athena IV, Macedon System
Earth date: 17th June, 2345
>SPACE! The final frontier!
>Long has man stared in awe at the stars, and long have the stars been out of man's grasp
>That is, until rockets and shit happened
>Some dudes walked on the moon or something and everyone and their mom popped a boner
>Now, I'm stuck flying around the ass end of nowhere on soufylyuugy.asdfhj7yuq390
"Fwuffy wuv clacky wettews! Hehehehe!"
 
>You are Captain Isaac Latt of the United Nations Armed Forces, commanding officer of the Epsilon, a state-of-the-art spacecraft, and you've just finished the first day of your new job
>You WERE in the middle of typing up your take on the day's events, until one of the subjects escaped the labs
>Your gaze slowly lowers from the holo-monitor to the keyboard and the vein in your forehead slowly becomes more defined
>There, prancing all over the keys, is a Fluffy Pony
>The boys back on Earth discovered centuries-old DNA that didn't match any living creature
>Turns out, the DNA belonged to "Fluffy Ponies," also known as "Shit Dispensers"
>Apparently, things on Earth got so bad a few hundred years back that they were eradicated
>Upon their re-discovery, PETA, which is surprisingly still a thing, lost their shit
>They wouldn't shut the hell up, so the government decided to do something about it
>So, naturally, the government cloned some up and sent your sorry ass a few hundred light years from home to study them
>The results were...less than satisfactory
>You grab the horrid little creature by the scruff and bring it up to eye level
"Listen to me, you little shit. You're lucky the only thing between you, me, and that vacuum is a single hull, or God help me there would be a plasma burn where your frontal lobe is right now."
"Dat mean we gon' pway?"
>You sigh and call for the science team to take the abomination back to containment
"Hey, Jim, if that thing escapes again, it's going out the airlock. Understood?"
"Yes, sir..."
>You slump down in your chair and try to wrap your head around what the galactic fuck is happening
>It's barely been a single day, and already four shits have been taken on the bridge alone
>The Fluffies managed to break containment more times than you care to count
>Honestly, security in the labs is pretty lax at the moment
>Cute little ponies hardly call for standard protocol
>Just a few hours ago, you were fine with that, as long as they stayed in the labs
>Now, you're considering using the plasma cutters to scare the things into submission
"How the hell did I get roped into this job...?"
>You get up and start to head toward the labs, reminiscing as you go
>You miss the good old days of space battles and alien booty
>Now you've got to deal with your crew of retarded manchildren constantly trying to play with the Fluffies
"Nyeh! But Cap'n, we were just pwaying!" you say in a mocking tone
>You eventually arrive in the ship's bio-lab
"Captain on deck!" Sylvan, the resident suckup, shouts
"Shut the fuck up, Sylvan." you respond
>You begin walking around the lab for an impromptu inspection
>Everyone else is quietly going about their business, the silence occasionally broken by a giggle or some baby talk
>The Fluffies are, for the most part, asleep
>Some are still playing or eating, and at least one has managed to choke to death on its water bottle
>That's alright, though, since there's about FOUR FUCKING MILLION OF THE LITTLE SHITS IN STASIS
>You frown, head up to your quarters, frown some more, and pour yourself a drink
>It's going to be a LONG mission...
 
>You are Jim Townsend, a UNAF scientist
>You are currently looking after Fluffers Vakarian, your personal favorite Fluffy
>His coat is pale silver, and his mane is a blueish purple
>Based on the data your team has dug up, he is what was once called an "Earth Fluffy"
"Let's see...vitals, check...appetite, check...blah blah blah..."
>You go down your extensive checklist and check off everything except "DECEASED?"
>Apparently these little guys are going to be reintroduced to Earth to be sold as bio-toys by some rich motherfucker
>He owns some company...Weyland something or other
>You move on to the day's final test: intelligence
"Hey there, little guy! How do you feel?"
"Fwuffy sweepy..."
>It understands you, that's a start
"Well, you can go to sleep after you answer a few questions, okay?"
"Otay, daddeh!"
"I'm not your daddy. I'm just here to make sure you don't die."
>A look of sheer confusion creeps onto the Fluffy's face
"Buh yu daddeh! Yu gif food an pway wif fwuffy!"
>You can't be bothered to deal with this, so you just mark its mental status as "Retarded"
>Sure, it's cute, but you really don't feel like dealing with this kind of thing, so you put him to bed
"Alright, Fluffers, sleep tight. I'll be back tomorrow."
"Night daddeh! ...whah ta... too... mowwow mean?"
>You slap your forehead and make a second check in the Retarded box