Title: The Final Fluff-tier, Part 3: C-Deck Surprise Author: Fuckasaurus_Fuck Pastebin link: http://pastebin.com/8mpJ47yf First Edit: Saturday 30th of March 2013 10:48:30 PM CDT Last Edit: Saturday 30th of March 2013 10:48:30 PM CDT Captain's Log: UNAF Research Vessel Epsilon In orbit around I don't even fucking know anymore. Earth date: 20th August, 2350 Audio Log: 107-B "C-Deck has officially been re-purposed to be used as a Fluffy habitat... Five. Fucking. Years. It has been five goddamned years and EarthGov still says the results aren't satisfactory... Those...THINGS...have been breeding non-fucking-stop ever since they learned how to fuck. Seriously...we started with maybe 35 live ones and another 100 in stasis...We're up to well over 1000. I swear to whatever foul, sadistic god would allow such creatures to exist, if I ever see the PETA motherfucker who is responsible for this shit, I will wipe any evidence that he ever fucking existed from the cosmos. End log."   >You are Captain Isaac Latt of the UNAF Epsilon, and you've been charged with researching Fluffy Ponies >The research is taking place well away from Earth, to avoid any environmental harm to the planet's ecosystem >You job, specifically, is to learn enough about the Fluffies to have them safely reintroduced to Earth >Personally, you'd rather see them all shot out of an airlock, but that would most likely cost you and your entire crew your jobs >At this point, you're seriously considering voluntarily throwing away your career to see the little bastards suffocate in space "Hewwo, missa! You wan pway?" >You've also considered just shooting yourself in the face "No...No I do not want to play with you. Just run along and go...do something that's...not here." "Otay!" >The fat little fluffball waddles out of the bridge >By now, the Fluffies are basically free to wander most of the ship since there's so many of them >At first, they were restricted to their pens in the biolabs >Soon enough, the smarter ones learned the fine art of fucking like horny rabbits >The labs were too small to hold them all, so their living quarters slowly expanded until an entire deck was re-purposed "Fwuffy gon fwy! Fwuff-" >BUZZ! WHOOSH! >You glance out the window to see that yet another Fluffy has somehow managed to operate an airlock and is now floating through space >You snap a picture and make a note to send it to a few PETA members as a Christmas card   >You are Jim Townsend, UNAF scientist >Your current job is to attempt to study the Fluffies in their "natural habitat" >In this case, "natural habitat" refers to the C-Deck of the Epsilon with some padding thrown down >Over the past few years, you've noticed a sort of hierarchy among the Fluffies >A single Fluffy (or in some rare cases, two) will emerge as leader of the others >The "smarty friend," as they like to be called, doesn't usually do a very good job >Most of the time, they just eat until they explode... >Or mate until their penis falls off... >Or beat on other Fluffies until their own bones shatter... >Alright, maybe they shouldn't be called "leaders" >But they are definitely smarter than the average retarded four year old >Just a little... >You grab the recorder out of your pocket and start talking "This is Jim Townsend, UNAF biologist. The current smarty is a female Unicorn named Ellen Fluffley...won't shut up about eggs and monsters... She stabbed six other Fluffies in the chest this week." >You continue recording, noting just about every new development on C-Deck since your last visit >The Fluffies have mostly been doing the same things: eating, sleeping, crying, and fucking >You make note of a few final things before turning around to head back to the crew deck >That's when you see it... "Fwuffy scawed...nu wike meanie Fwuffies..." >There, cowering in a corner, is a Fluffy Pony with a horn, and wings >It's an Alicorn