>Own fluffy pony.
>male, named Hoffman after your favorite chemist.
>Hoffman is particularly intelligent for a fluffy pony, possessing an actual learning ability.
>Fluffy pony does not understand your job, however. You illegally synthesize LSD to sell on the street.
>One day you accidentally drop a ten-strip on the ground, enough to make somebody trip hard for around two days.
>You come home later that day after peddling your wares at a club downtown to find Hoffman is silently sitting and staring at the wall.
>despite being an intelligent pony of sorts, he never was a quiet one.
>"Hoffman?" you say, a bit scared. He's sitting in a puddle of his own piss.
>"Howfman see univwerse." At this point you realize that your fluffy has imbibed some of your wonderful product.
>You carefully watch Hoffman until you become tired and go to bed. You lay out some spaghetti for him on a plate, and go to bed.
>When you wake up in the morning, the spaghetti is gone, and so is Hoffman.
 
>you find Hoffman in your office, near your computer.
>He's writing in your notepad fervently.
>You draw near, and look over him at the paper. He doesn't even seem to notice you.
>Complex geometric patterns and long, scrawling paragraphs coat the visible pages.
>From his current speed you can tell he's already filled several pages.
>This might be one of the most interesting things you've ever seen.
>You tell your accomplices that work in your lab that you're taking off today. No complaints are raised.
>You sip black tea and watch Hoffman write. Eventually he runs out of paper.
>Hoffman simply sits there for an hour after running out of paper.
>Finally, he turns and looks at you.
>"Dis is da gwood shit." he says.
>Hoffman would not be proud.
 
>You however, are very much proud. You produce several tabs.
>You spend the next few hours babbling with Hoffman about stupid shit.
>Eventually you get back on the topic of the notebook.
>You read what little makes sense, and it seems to be some sort of arcane writing.
>Because you're an expert on arcane stuff all of a sudden.
>"Hoffman, what the fuck does all of this mean?" you say, absolutely confused.
>It doesn't help that you can't comprehend the concept of a notebook, you're tripping so hard.
>"Fiwst need fwuffy unicwon." he says. "Dwen need de gweat elixwir."
>Your mind understands that. You need a unicorn that's tripping.
>"So what does all of this do?" you say, awestruck.
>"Unicwon power bwigger!" screams Hoffman hysterically. Oh Hoffman. Your problem child.
 
>The next day you're a very tired psychonaut.
>But a very excited one. You spend a few unenthusiastic hours at the lab, then head home.
>You bring Hoffman with you to the fluffy pony adoption center.
>He's noticeably nervous as you approach, he came from this very adoption center.
>Apparently he was abused by the feral fluffies held in this center.
>He's also nervous about getting a unicorn. He may be the only fluffy pony you've ever met with an inferiority complex.
>It must suck to be an earth pony.
>You and Hoffman enter the adoption center. The receptionist is chatting on the phone inanely about something one of her friends did.
>You wait a full minute for her to disengage from the conversation.
>God, you fucking hate having to listen to people's vain conversations. Especially when they're about their friends.
>You remain stoic throughout your wait, and when the receptionist is done you brighten up somewhat.
>"Hey, I'm looking to adopt a couple of fluffies." you say. She raises her eyebrows at the notion of buying multiple.
>Fucking media and their sensational "fluffy abuse" scares.
 
>Despite raised eyebrows, her tone of voice doesn't sound in the least bit suspicious.
>"What exactly are you looking for?" she says, maximizing a window. You can see what she's doing on her computer, it's all reflecting off of her glasses. She's on Facebook.
>"One pweggie pony, two unicworns and aw pegawasus!" says Hoffman, slurring the word pegasus horribly.
>Didn't he say he only needed a unicorn and LSD?
>The receptionist's eyebrows have disappeared into her bangs. Her voice betrays her feelings this time.
>"Wait...what?" she leans over the desk and sees Hoffman for the first time. She is absolutely flabbergasted.
>Her look plainly says "You're letting this little shit call the shots?"
>You shrug. Okay, maybe the look didn't say "little shit" but it certainly was condescending.
>You and Hoffman are led into the back of the orphanage, and bear witness to the horrors of fluffy pony storage.
>However, because the writer doesn't want to waste more time describing useless shit that you've all read a million times, we skip straight to choosing the fluffies.
 
>Hoffman is very selective, and an hour later he's picked out a pegasus and a pregnant fluffy.
>the pegasus took him a relatively short time to find, but he was dithering at a page of pregnant ones for about forty minutes.
>He's been constantly consulting his notes and mumbling nonsensical shit. You're actually feeling a bit worried.
>You also realize that in some strange way, there is no going back anymore.
>Whatever Hoffman is trying to do, he'll manage to do. It doesn't matter whether you're involved or not.
>"Dis one!" he says, snapping you out of your reverie. He's picked a unicorn at last. You unlock the cage with the key that the receptionist gave you.
>Apparently they're not very concerned about the possibility of you stealing fluffies. Hell, they'd probably be happy.
>You grab the grey unicorn, which actively struggles, as opposed to the behavior of the pregnant one and the pegasus.
>They're still babbling about their new daddy in their carrying cases.
>You also notice that no customers have came in since you entered. You wonder when this orphanage is shutting down.
 
>the grey unicorn tries to bite you, to your surprise. It doesn't hurt, but it's just another unnerving detail in a plot full of unnerving details.
>You shove the grey unicorn into a cage, and bring it up to the receptionist.
>Then you realize you had been thinking of the cashier as a receptionist. That goddamn phone.
>"Are you sure you don't want to put them all in one cage?" she says, drawing bigger eyebrows with her eyebrow pencil.
>You look at the cage with the writhing grey unicorn, then the one with the pregnant earth fluffy, and finally the jittery pegasus.
>What the fuck could this all mean? Does Hoffman really want to make the unicorn's magic more powerful?
>What eldritch nighted gibbous scheme have you become entangled in?
>Lovecraft aside, the unicorn suddenly stops struggling.
>"Let smawty fwend go or I give you big huwties!" says the unicorn, his horn starting to glow.
>"Ignore it, they're all always full of shit. Why are you buying a feral anyway?" says the receptionist. The next moment she's screaming.
 
>the cage the unicorn is in explodes.
>shrapnel erewhere.
>You lash out at the unicorn, smacking him in the head.
>Because this isn't an abuse fic, the unicorn is coldclocked. Might have a bit of brain damage too. Whatever.
>The cashier is shaking with fear and has her hands over her head while crouching down and whimpering.
>You feel like there's a story behind this reaction, but you comfort her and shit.
>You leave the adoption center with one unconcious pony, one pregnant pony, one terrified pony and one mildly insane pony.
>And nine numbers broken into three groups of three by three hyphens.
>You love numbers.
>You arrive at your home, and Hoffman begins making the "necessawy prepawations"
>In other words, he scribbles weird eldritch symbols all over your basement.
>science will march triumphantly onwards at the cost of another coat of paint.
 
>"So how are you going to do this?" you say to Hoffman.
>"Yule see." says Hoffman. You suddenly realize that Hoffman has, in a way, conjugated a conjugation.
>The paradox damages your mind far more then any drug ever did.
>"Gew get de subjects." says Hoffman dismissively. You're a bit put out by his behavior.
>The grey unicorn has awoken, but he seems very tired. Or very braindead. You wonder whether this apparent brain damage will affect the experiment.
>When you arrive in the basement you find that Hoffman has created something that reminds you quite a bit of a circuit board with arcane symbols.
>"Rewease the unicown." says Hoffman. You do so.
>It lies on the floor breathing. Hoffman appears unperturbed, or he doesn't notice. He is a fluffy, after all.
>You suddenly realize that Hoffman hasn't asked for hugs ever since he took the LSD.
>You feel sad. You watch Hoffman push the breathing unicorn onto one of the symbols.
>"Now bwing me the others!" he says. He lays his hooves on the horn of the unicorn, and begins murmuring.
>The circuit begins to glow slightly.
>You return with the pregnant fluffy and the pegasus, who's bouncing around in his cage with excitement.
>You release the pregnant one, and Hoffman rolls it to it's position.
>The pegasus won't stand still, annoying Hoffman significantly.
 
>Hoffman attempts to bash the pegasus over the head to knock it out, but ends up becoming entangled in a hug with the fluffy.
>he struggles for a bit, then gives up and lies there limply while the pegasus hugs him.
>it looks adorable, but you decide that the best way to keep the pegasus in its place is to sedate it.
>You conjure up a miraculous syringe full of heroin and inject into the pegasus.
>the pegasus nods off, and Hoffman haughtily gets up.
>"Bwing de elixir!" he says. You bring him a vitamin water bottle filled to the brim with liquid LSD.
>That's actually worth a shitload, but you want to see this brought to its conclusion. Plus you have a video camera set up.
>Imagine the views. The movie deals. The guest performances.
>Hoffman steps into his position on the circuit after tracing the patterns with LSD.
>You knew it was the stuff magic was made of. But you have a twinge of sadness when you see him step into place.
>"Hoffman..." you say softly. "Hugs?"
>Hoffman stares at you suddenly, then waddles over and hugs your leg before excitedly returning to his position.
>"At wast!" he says, as the power of deus ex machina prepares to turn on him.
 
>you watch as the circuit begins to glow strongly.
>the light flows from the symbol that Hoffman is standing on, to the symbol the pegasus is on, to the one with the unicorn, and finally to the pregnant fluffy.
>And you finally realize.
>Far too late.
>"No! Hoffman!" you cry. "The unicorn has-"
>the light is blinding, although it probably wouldn't be as bad if your pupils weren't so dilated.
>when the light is gone, there is only dust where the unicorn and the pegasus sat. There is nothing where Hoffman was
>The pregnant fluffy is in bloody pieces.
>A large fluffy with wings and a horn is standing in the center of the bloody mess.
>At last you realize everything. Hoffman's desire to be a "special" fluffy led him to desire wings and magic.
>The LSD imbibed him with magical greentext power, allowing him to realize how he could ascend to fluffy godhood.
>He knew that there was a unicorn with particular magic talent at the orphanage, because that was the one which bullied him when he lived there!
>Now all of the loose ends have been tied up, however, you still have an abomination on your hands.
>One which suddenly began to display aggression.
>"GIVE BAD HUGGSIES." says Hoffbomination.
>It's about seven feet tall, and pretty lean for a fluffy. Its fur is pure white.
>"GIF BIG BOOBOO!" it roared.
>Time to bust the joint. You escape from the basement as a massive explosion destroys it. Luckily you grab your camera.
>This footage just became much more valuable then you thought it would be. Who knows how much Homeland Security would pay for this?
>Or maybe not. You realize that the basement has collapse in on Hoffbomination.
>And then he bursts from the ground as the story picks up to reach its inevitable climax.
>"GIVE BAD PONIES BIG OUCHIES. MAKE DEM PAY. SHOW DEM HOFFY NO LIKE PONIES DAT NO BE NICE."
>and then he sped off in the direction of the orphanage.
 
 
>You skip the long process of describing how you obtain your gun.
>You now have a shotgun and you're on your way to the orphanage to save a receptionist and some fluffies.
>Plus, you gotta be a real necromancer and demonstrate that you only bring up that which you can put down.
>Lovecraft reference once again disregarded, you arrive at the orphanage toting a 12-gauge shotgun.
>no, wait, you have an M-16!
>No, a .50 caliber sniper!
>Have you compensated for your dick size yet?
>Anyway, you walk into the orphanage with the shotgun raised and loaded.
>The cashier's desk is covered in blood. You peer over the desk to see that she had been decapitated.
>You go to check her Facebook messages to see whether she had mentioned meeting you to anyone.
>But then you suddenly notice that she's lying facedown.
>HOLY SHIT.
>DAT ASS!!
>Jesus, why did she choose a job involving sitting down? Now you know why that explosion scared her, she has a "bangin'" ass!
>Okay, now you're entering the realm of unfunny jokes.
>You eventually find a conversation that took place earlier on in the day.
>She rated you an 8.5/10. You don't mind. Her friend apparently wants to meet you. You take note of her facebook page's url.
>Holy shit, you could go to the funeral and hook up with her there!
>You browse her friends pages for a bit, listening to the screams of the fluffies in the storage room as Hoffbomination rips away their lives.
>You finally decide to act after sending yourself a facebook request from her profile.
 
>you brace yourself, then walk in.
>Jesus Christ.
>If this room was a research paper, you would be citing a thousand shitty fluffy pony abuse stories.
>It has the meathooks, the amputations, the grisly bisections, and you find yourself scared to describe it for fear of springing a hard one.
>Hoffbomination is behind a large row of cages, but which one? This place is like the place with all of the prophecies in Harry Potter.
>You follow the screams of "BIG BOOBOO BOOJUICE SOWWY STICK BABY SOUND ETCEWA!"
>At wast.
>Hoffbomination sits at the end of a gruesome hall of cages, telekinetically tearing fluffies apart.
>"Hoffman!" you cry, and he stops torturing the fluffy.
>"YOU BIG BAD MONSTER! GIVE BAND-AID HURT!" Hoffbomination says. He advances.
>His horn begins to glow.
>You're desperate.
>"Hugs!" you cry suddenly. Hoffman stops advancing.
>He suddenly looks confused.
>You see then in his eyes, that he's still Hoffman underneath there.
>Which means he deserves this.
>You blow his head off with your mighty boomstick, and admire the crimson fountain that gushes forth from his head.
 
>You suddenly realize something.
>This whole thing wouldn't happen if you hadn't given Hoffman LSD.
>What if LSD has some sort of unexpected effects on fluffy ponies?
>What if the same goes for all psychedelics?
>You return to the front desk, and start looking through the fluffy pony databases, trying to find Hoffman.
>You find him by his original name: Holden.
>You find all of his relatives and shit like that, because in this universe orphanages care about fluffy ancestry.
>You also admire dat ass a bit, but not too much. Turns out she had an assload of shit she was holding in when she got killed.
>You muse over the possibilities that your discovery may open up for a while, then head home.
>On the way back, you pick up a car battery, alligator clips, and a few packages of benedryl.
>Soon it will be your favorite time - Experiment time!
 
>The end.