>be Doctor Olgore Fewssenmacher
>you are an internationally-known animal psychologist
>this week you have been hired by Hasbro Biotoys to do a study on "smarty friend" fluffy ponies
>they want to see what happens when a smarty has no other fluffies to order around
>you spend the week monitoring small herds in a local park
>then you spot an ideal candidate... a light blue unicorn with medium blue mane and tail
>he's quite abusive of the other fluffies in his herd and makes use of two "toughie friends" as enforcers
>you watch as he threatens the life of a fluffy for not allowing him to have "special hugs" with the fluffy's mate
>the two "toughie friends" step forward to beat up - or possibly kill - her mate
>"pwease dun huwt husban! wuv husban!"
>"smawty nu cawe! yu giff speshal huggies or husban get biggest owies!"
>you decide to step in at this point.
>you bring your polished patent leather shoe down on the back of one of the toughie friends, breaking its back
>it lays on the ground, bent in half at a horrible angle, gurgling
>you grab a stick and jam it up the other toughie friend's rectum
>he screams and kicks but to no avail. he is impaled through his anus and up into his digestive tract
>you smack him against a tree a few times to silence him
>the mare and her "husband" hug each other, sobbing into their fluff, oblivious of the death that surrounds them
>the smarty, taken aback by the loss of his soldiers but still blissfully megalomaniacal, stomps up to you with his cheeks puffed up
>"dis smawty wan! dis smawty hewd! yu go way or get big owwies..."
>he is silenced as you pop a burlap sack over him
>you carry him back to the lab, whistling an old song mother used to sing to you
>the two sobbing fluffies look up to see the toughie friends dead and the smarty gone
>"wha happen?"
>"dunno... wan haff speshal huggies?"
>"okay!"
>"enf enf enf"
>"mew mew mew"
>
>back at the lab, you double check the specially-prepared room before dumping smarty into it
>everything is white. there is a small, soft bed, a bowl of water, a bowl of fluffy kibble, a litter box, a ball and blocks
>all white
>you pull the smarty from the sack. before he can start in with his nonsense you squeeze him over a trash can
>a steady stream of mostly liquid feces oozes out of his rear end
>you give him a couple of extra squeezes despite his complaining
>toss him in the sink, douse him with warm water, wash him
>a quick dry later and he's good as new
>complaining and threatening you, of course
>you resist the urge to smack him in the face. there'll be time for that later
>you toss the smarty into the white room and slam the door shut
>"dat's... dat's wight! dis smawty's pwace! dummy hooman nu come in hewe!"
>cameras are rolling. you watch intently from behind a two-way mirror
>"dummy hoomans... take smawty fwom hewd... smawty giff big huwties!"
>the smarty wanders around, sniffing at the room
>"dese stoopid nummies. smawty wan bettah nummies!"
>he looks around, realizing there's no one to boss around
>having no one to complain to, he silently munches on the fluffy kibble
>"humph! smawty nu use wittah box! smawty go poopies whewe wan!"
>the smarty squats on the floor and unloads a load of shit
>"ew... nu smewll gud. hey! dummy hoomans! cwean poopies! naow!"
>he pauses, listening. then gets a weird look on his face
>"whewe hoomans? cwean up smawty poopies!"
>the smarty listens again and hearing nothing, looks at his own shit and grimaces
>"ew. bad poopies."
>the smarty seems to occupy his time for a while batting the ball back and forth, then playing with the blocks
>"smawty make bestest hous! dummy hoomans make dummy hous! smawty make smawty hous!"
>the tower of blocks fall over, some of them landing in the smarty's poop
>"nuuuuuuuuuu! bwocks haff poopies! nuuuuuuuuuu! stupid fwuffies! stu..."
>smarty suddenly realizes he is alone and has no one else to blame.
>"gahhhhhhhhhh! whewe hewd? need dummy fwuffies to ordah woun!"
>the smarty sulks for a while, then crawls into the little bed and falls asleep
>while he sleeps you use a small secret panel to pour more kibble and water into his dishes
>the smarty wakes some ten hours later
>you've already gone home but a lab assistant is recording his progress
>the smarty plays with the clean blocks and the ball, muttering to himself
>"dummy hoomans... dun wan baff... nummies awe poopies... SMAWTY MAKE BAD POOPIES WHEWE WAN!"
>he starts to squat but then notices his other lump of rancid shit, slighly smeared on the floor from his blocks falling into it
>he thinks twice and goes in the litter box
>"dummy box... dummy hoomans... smawty do wat wan!"
>this goes on for a week. while smarty sleeps you refill his bowls and clean out his litter box
>any accidents or purposeful "bad poopies" are left where he made them
>at least smarty was smart enough to realize crapping in the small room more than a couple of times will fill it with a god-awful smell
>he uses the litter box regularly
>but after a week he starts acting... funny
>it's already known that isolated fluffies will go crazy rather quickly
>even negative attention from abusive people will satisfy it to some extent
>but fluffies NEED attention. they practically feed on hugs and love.
>some scientists theorize that fluffies literally DO feed on positive energy
>so you're interested to see what happens to a nasty fluffy when it has no attention
>it doesn't take long. the fluffy starts talking to himself... or so you think.
>you quickly realize he's talking to his blocks and ball
>"yu dummy fwuffies sit dere... you dummy fwuffies sit dere. bad poopie fwuffies stay dere."
>he thinks his blocks and ball are fluffies. fascinating.
>he starts nuzzling the ball, rubbing his face against it
>you don't think he's going to...
>"enf enf enf... take dat fwuffy no-no wike a diwty giwl! enf enf!"
>yep. he's having sex with the ball.
>"dat gud speshal huggies. yu smawty's wifey naow."
>amazing. he thinks the ball is his mate.
>this behavior continues for the next three days. he "orders" around the blocks, moving them himself
>he even starts moving the shit-stained blocks, where he had avoided touching them before
>on the next day, the smarty's behavior takes a different turn
>he squats and takes a huge dump
>he starts forming the poop into more "fluffies"
>"yu da dummiest fwuffies... smawty say yu stay hewe out of fwuff piwle. we make fwuff piwle hewe..."
>the smarty climbs into his bed, covering himself with his blocks. some of the shit stains his fluff
>"dis bestest fwuffpile."
>he falls asleep
>the next morning he wakes up and squats. he forms the poop into more little vaguely fluffy-shaped lumps
>"dis smawty hewd! yu wissen to smawty! smawty is bestest fwuffy!"
>this is incredible. he's made his own herd from crap.
>the smarty lays in his little bed, piling his blocks and lumps of crap on top of him
>when he wakes up he is covered from head to toe in shit.
>his eyes have a lot of gunk in them and look very pink. his rearend is caked in shit and you can see oozing sores beginning to form
>the exposure to the shit is affecting his physical health
>on the thirteenth day, the smarty can barely move or see. his eyes are crusted almost completely shut. he can barely walk from the shit caked around his rear legs
>"smawty... smawty... say... hewd fowwow. go... fine... nummies..."
>he collapses on the ground, surrounded by his "herd" of feces.
>"smawty... smawty... poopie hewd... guh..."
>the smarty has died. likely from blood poisoning.
>it took less than thirteen days to make a smarty friend go crazy from isolation
>you record your observations and report to your employer
>Hasbro Biotoys wants to see the experiment continued... possibly two or three times more to double check the results
>you're not entirely sure why but as long as the checks don't bounce it's none of your business
>time to head back to the park