The Final Fluff-tier, Part 3: C-Deck Surprise

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