The Abuser’s Web Guide - Episode 10: Cooking Corner
By: Turboencabulator
A fast-motion sequence shows a blurry Interocitor taking quite a lot of time to clean and
spruce up a large domestic kitchen. The island stove is shined, gas burners cleaned. Dishes are
put away, windows are opened, and knives are sharpened.
Finally, normal speed returns, and Interocitor is leaning against the kitchen island, looking
slightly off-frame, sipping a glass of whiskey. “Man I hate cleaning.”
For the first time, a title card flashes up. “Cooking For and With Fluffies” is written on it,
apparently done on paper with a calligraphic hand. It is surrounded by what appear to be
fluffy-drawn images of foods. Suitable classical music is playing, and is cut off mid-measure
by a fluffy proclaiming ‘OM NOM!’.
The shot returns to Interocitor, the glass of whiskey conspicuously missing. “Hello everyone,
welcome to Episode Ten, never though we’d get here. So, something a bit different, as I said
last episode. Now some of the folks on the forums have been complaining about when the episode
was coming out, but I had to take some time for the prep work.”
“We’re going to be doing a few recipes for fluffy consumption first, focusing on dams and
foals. There’s plenty of good resources for normal fluffy feeding, but I’ve noticed that a lot
of the stuff out there for pregnant or developing fluffies ranges from useless to dangerous.”
Interocitor holds up two photographs, one is a tube of white liquid, another is slightly more
yellow liquid. “These show samples taken from a nursing mare four hours apart. The white fluid
is milk. The yellow is colostrum, which is only expressed from the mare during the first
nursing. This contains a massive dose of antibodies and useful nutrients that ensure good foal
development and general long term health.”
Putting the photographs down, he continues. “This is why I always advise you watch new
mothers feed their young the first time. If they show favoritism during this first feeding, you
step in and correct it.”
“Now,” he goes on, taking out a bowl. “We’re going to do a generalized mothering feed that
should be given to your fluffies from the start of pregnancy until their young are weaned. This
will prevent mummah-derp, and will also promote healthy children. It also is specifically
designed to aid in the production of colostrum.”
“Naturally we will also go out of our way to provide options for sabotage but those will be
later. But for now, we’re going to focus on the good stuff.”
“First, you need to mind calories during pregnancy and nursing. Whole grains, brown rice,
oatmeal, potatoes will be your starchy bases. Protein is important, as is omega-3 fatty acids,
vitamins all over the place, sugars, and folic acid. So, we’re going to be making a breakfast
oatmeal and a pilaf dish for mares.” He waggles the bowl and pours in four cups of
oatmeal. “Start with something steel-cut so they get the hulls, nice and nutritious.”
He takes out a smaller measure, and pours in some crushed nuts. “Next up, quarter-cup of
walnuts, followed by a quarter cup of chia seeds. These provide ALA, which gets you the
omega-3.”
“Now, folate is a bit more iffy to do in a breakfast dish, and you want to avoid foods that
have too much vitamin A, so that strikes out liver. I’ve found that chickpeas mixed with honey
can do double duty. Make sure you use local honey, we’ll get on why in a minute.” He shows a
bowl of chickpeas mashed into a thick paste with honey, scooping it into the bowl.
Taking up another bowl, of strawberries and blackcurrants. “Next, vitamin C. One cup total. If
your mare is getting extra farty, back off on these.” They go into the bowl. “Now we come to an
issue for fluffies, vitamin D. A lot of the ‘super fragile’ issues that fluffies get is due to
shitty sources of vitamin D. However, you shouldn’t feed fluffies meats, one of the best
sources for D, unless you’re ready for their feces to do a horizontal impression of old
faithful. Some small amounts of fish, however, are completely fine.”
He pulls out a bowl of mushrooms. “However fungi are great for it. Plain button mushrooms are
fine, and I’ve found most fluffies like the taste. A bit odd in oatmeal but I’ve not heard
complaints.” He dumps in some. “About a half cup.”
“Finally, we got ourselves yoghurt.” He measures some into a bowl. “Greek yogurt please,
full-fat, a cup and a half.”
He stirs it up, and snaps a cover on the bowl. “Now, this is obviously more than one serving,
mares should get it mixed in one-to-one with your usual feed. However, make sure one of your
components in your feed is locally produced grasses, for the same reason as the local honey. It
gets them used to local pollens, so your fluffies don’t get hay fever. Which is a thing, believe
it or not.”
“Next up, the pilaf.” He sets down a new, smaller bowl, with brown rice in it. “We’re going to
be constructing it in a similar way.” Narrating as he constructs, he begins carefully mixing in
ingredients. “So, start with one scrambled egg, some minced enoki mushrooms, sliced nori
seaweed, a touch of flaxseed oil, some flaked tuna, salmon, or smoked herring, or pressed
tofu. Add either shelled edamame or peas, diced steamed carrots, and steamed broccoli. Then a
bit of lemon juice and some feta cheese. Refrigerate and serve. You can also fry it out for a
fluffy fried rice, but if you want to go that route leave out the nori and the feta until after
you cook it.”
“Now, you do not need to do these every meal of the day. I would recommend doing them at most
three meals out of the week. Unless you want to experiment with what hypervitaminosis looks
like in fluffy newborns.”
“So, we get to the fun part.” Interocitor says, pulling out a trimming of
something. “Teratogenics. Plants and substances that can cause birth defects.”
The shot cuts to a close up of the trimming, a cornstalk-like plant. “This is the California
corn lily, very poisonous, and the pith can be added to fluffy food to cause birth defects
that usually result in things like the eyes not separating during development or the brain just
not separating into lobes.”
A new shot, this time of a purple flowering plant, like a tower of bells. “This is the
lupin. Beautiful plants, and the beans can be quite tasty. The roots, however, can lead to
crooked calf disease, as well as general poisoning in the fluffy in high enough doses. However
if a fluffy gets past the poisoning usually they’re no worse for wear. Your carpets might be
though.”
A new shot, of two yellow flowers. “These are laburnum, also known as golden rain, a common
ornamental tree, and on the right you have cytisus, flowering plants. Laburnum is common in the
US, and cytisus in europe. Both contain delicious, delicious toxins that can cause the foals to
be born without correctly developed internal organs.”
A bottle appears in shot, it’s quite old, and the label is faded. “If you don’t want to go
hunting for odd plants, you can go the chemical route. This is a pesticide containing
endosulfan, and is quite horrible if ingested by pregnant mares. Aside from causing vomiting
and tremors until expelled, it will cause most fluffies to be born with cataracts or entirely
missing their eyes.”
Next up is a baggie of a brown, shredded plant substance. “This is tobacco. Yes, tobacco. Any
form contains nicotine, which is stupidly addictive, if you want to go the psychological abuse
route, and in fluffies it is quite easy to get into the doses required for birth
defects. Usually leads to neurological issues.”
The shot returns to Interocitor, who holds up a bottle of clear liquid. “And of course, well
known in humans, ethanol. Granted it takes a lot less booze to get a fluffy hammered but you
can easily convince mares that the tiredness, lethargy, disorientation and euphoria are because
hey, they’re going to be a mother soon, yayyyy!”
A jump cut, and the kitchen is clean again, with Interocitor back in shot. “Now, unlike the
horses that they’re based on, fluffies do not need a gradual transition off milk. Once their
teeth are developed, it’s time to switch them over. Letting them try and ‘creep feed’ leads to
malformed jaws and teeth, and can also cause significant psychological issues.”
“If your mare is not in sync with this,” Interocitor says, with a sigh. “And a lot won’t
be. You will need to separate them. Some mares lactate long, and if she tries to keep letting
foals feed, even after you’ve said not to and why, that isn’t going to be something that will
change by telling them with a more stern tone of voice. It’s also a sign of early-breeder
syndrome. If she has one, enlist the help of her special friend, and be sure to be clear of the
risks with them.”
“But, onto the foal food. To make it easier for them we’re going to be making a simple ‘wean
meal’. This should be fed for the first day as is, then mixed fifty-fifty with their normal
food for the next day. It starts out as a dry food for storage, then you can mix it with your
preferred sugar source, still recommending honey, and milk, yogurt, or cream, depending on what
the little goober likes, or if you’re raising them for meat, go for double cream.”
He puts down a fresh bowl. “We’re going to make a ‘load’ of this. It keeps a long time as long
as it’s dry.” Narrating again as he goes, he begins mixing items together. “First, start with a
pound of timothy or alfalfa hay, cut into short segments. Add in a cup of sunflower seeds, a
cup of raisins, two cups of regular fortified oat meal, a cup of dried, yes dried spinach, and
finally, the secret.” He shows a half cup of an orangey-white powder. “Whey protein.”
It’s all mixed together, and also sealed up. “So, that takes care of the fluffies. We’ll have
some reaction shots, and then move on to the food for humans.”
A quick cut, and foals are seen charging over and digging in to the half and half mixture of
the weaning mix, some of them belching mid-mouthful, then swallowing. They immediately bounce around and play afterwards, a few of them pausing to belch from eating so fast.
Another cut, and a heavily pregnant mare is laying on her side, quietly pawing her belly and
groaning, muttering. She looks up, and her expression lights up as Interocitor puts down the
fried rice pilaf. She promptly plows into it it, happily sounding like a living garbage
disposal. “Fank you daddeh, wuv happy-mummah-fuud.” She says, between trips down to smash her face into her meal.
The scene is different, a workshop. Interocitor is pulling on a carpenter’s apron and safety
gloves. “So, first, we’re going to be making fluffy foie gras. This takes about two months, and
you need to start by making a box for your fluffy. The plans for this are on the forums, so let
me just go ahead and cut to the end.”
A cut and Interocitor is standing with a lot more sawdust on him than before, and has a
finished wood product in front of him.
“So, first, this is two tiers. Underneath is space for a waste tray, and above is a U-shaped
space. The walls are high enough that the fluffy won’t be able to roll out, and has a number of
peg holes inside for moving a shelf as the fluffy grows for their food. If they refuse to eat we
have methods to get around that. The back has a gap and a cutout in the floor for stool, and
the floor is slightly tilted to encourage draining and discourage motion, as it makes the
fluffy feel like they might slide backwards.”
He picked it up, then immediately put it back down again, looking at his hands. “Uh. Be sure
you let the stain finish drying before you move it.”
Another scene change, and Interocitor is walking out in his yard. “Now, you can do this with
adults, but it’s best done with a chirpy. I’m not going to take from my own herd, so I’m off
into the woods to do some foalnapping.”
A cut, and Interocitor is hiding in the brush, with a comically large net. A fluffy trail is
nearby, and a herd is making its way through. In a flash, he brings the net down on a mare with
chirpies and hauls her off, the fluffies behind screaming and causing a stampede away.
Another cut and he’s walking back, a mare muzzled and struggling in a mesh bag, and a small,
clear carrier with five chirpies in it, suckling on nipples.
“Now, we’ve got ourselves more than we need, so I’ll be introducing these chirpies to the herd
as orphans and keeping the mare around for milk purposes, so I don’t need to take from my own.”
Going in the house, he set the chirpies down on a table and took the mare down into the
basement, whistling a merry tune. He went into a small room, filling a plastic sink with
water. Turning it off, he pulls the mare out of the bag and dunks her, pulling her out and
unmuzzling her.
“SCREE! WAWA BAD! MUNSTA HOOMIN!” She screeches, kicking and struggling. Interocitor dunks her a few more times, then plants her on a milking immobilizer, strapping her in.
She struggles, then freezes as the milking machine turns on. “Nu! NU! NU STEAW MIWKIES! GIB
BACK! NEED FOW BABBIES!”
Interocitor backhanded her, making her squeak, bleeding from a lip.
“Be silent.” He said, putting down a bowl of mush where she could see. “Nobody is here to help
you. I’m taking your milk, then I’m eating you.”
She cowered in the stand, and watching him. Interocitor goes back out, turning out the light,
and closing the door on the screaming mare.
Interocitor has a chirpie in the palm of his hand, letting it suckle on his thumb. “Now, this
little one is going to be our special dish. The first step is to take a chirpie and open its
eye to blind it on one side.”
Using his fingers, Interocitor gently opened the chirpie’s eye, holding it still. It
struggled, making little screep cries, its eye rolling and slowly frosting over. Urine
dribbled out of Interocitor’s hands. “Once the fog is there, that’s fine.” He lets the
chirpie’s head go, and it shut its eye again, curling up into its tiny forehooves.
“Next, we render it immobile. Chirpies are very difficult to pillow without a lot of practice,
plus we want this fluffy to understand it isn’t going to run. So, you want to dislocate or
break the limbs. If you go for a break, as near the joint with the body as possible.”
Interocitor places his thumbs strategically, using them as levers to pop the limbs out of
joint. The chirpy screeches and struggles, and Interocitor gives it a bottle, the chirpy
suckling furiously for comfort.
“Mare’s milk is fine to start, but I fortify mine with extra sugar and fats.” He says, going
into a pantry and laying the chirpy in the box, checking an outlet to make sure the fluffy’s
warmed. He puts a blanket over the chirpy, putting the bottle in a holder. “So, you want to
make sure the box faces into a corner. The good eye should be on the corner side.”
He puts a small screen on a stand in place where the fluffy could see it. “So, our objective
here is misery. This fluffy gets no name, and no more physical affection. A constant stream of
FluffTV from morning to bedtime, so it’ll know what it will never have. It won’t be able to see
us, since the only light will be from the TV and it won’t be able to look around in the direction of the room.”
Interocitor is setting up a schedule on the system attached to the screen,
absentmindedly. “This will make it depressed, and depressed fluffies love to eat.”
The shot cuts to intertitles, saying ‘Two Weeks Later’.
Interocitor walks in off frame, setting down a fifty pound bag of sweet feed. “Right, now that
it’s got all its teeth, we’re gunna switch it to the fattening feed. Take one cup of this, half
a cup of heavy cream, any tasteless general fluffy nutrient powder, and three to four
tablespoons of honey or sweet molasses. Naturally, a pinch of MSG will always aid. Keep its
bowl full, and it’ll keep eating.”
“Now, feeding time.” He said, going into the closet with a pre-mixed bowl of the feed. The
fluffy is whimpering, watching an episode of ‘Run and Play’. Interocitor sets the bowl down and
turns but the fluffy perks up.
“D-daddeh? Pwease? Wub?” The fluffy asks, craning its neck around as far as
possible. Interocitor stays out of his line of slight, flicking out a slender pocketknife
blade. He inserts it into the fluffy’s nostril, keeping its head turned.
“Nobody would ever love a dummy-leggie, no-mommy, tiny little shitbag like you. Look how small
you are.” Interocitor says, pouring his cruelty into his voice. The fluffy whines and stammers,
until Interocitor flicks his wrist, slitting the fluffy’s nostril.
It screams, burying its face in its mangled, ruined forehooves, getting blood
everywhere. Interocitor picks up a hose, spraying the fluffy’s rear end clean, and changing the
litterbox. He leaves, taking the litterbox out and emptying it into a compost pile.
Another cut to six weeks later and Interocitor walks into frame with an extra-fat fluffy, a
fluffy pastel yellow mare in the light. She’s derped, her one good eye swivelling around
randomly, the bad one staring into infinity.
"Right, now you simply gut it and remove the liver. Naturally the remainder of the fluffy will
be useful for meat, but the high fat content is sometimes a bit much. I find foie gras fluffies
make better sausage than general cuts. So, unfortunately, derped fluffies don’t respond to
sadism to improve their flavour, but she derped only a few days ago when I left the television
on a ‘Super Happy Special Friends’ marathon. The despair of this porker’s existence is enough
to make sure she’s nice and flavorful.
The mare blows a raspberry, very slowly, as Interocitor sets her in the sink, so she’s sitting
upright. “First, slice the femoral artery, and then across the neck.”
Two quick slices, and the mare rapidly bleeds out, flailing a little from the pain. Interocitor
busies himself setting out items and tools, then picks the fluffy out of the sink. “Next, the
missus wants some fluff to make toys for the herd, so, shaving time.”
He takes time to shave the fluffy to a pink, strange looking lump of flesh, setting the fluff
aside in a basket. “Ok, next up is to get the offal out.”
Picking up a knife, he illustrates, tapping at points on the fluffy. “So I have already
irrigated her, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t feces still in the rectum. You’ll want to be
careful, but on mares you want to make a cut through the meat, from just under the sternum down to the top of the vagina.” He inserted the knife, carefully parting the fluffy open. “Make sure
you roll the knife towards horizontal as you get to the bottom, to help avoid the rectum and
reproductive organs.”
He soon has the mare open, and uses a pair of shears to snip out the intestines, and cut out
the rectum and anus. Carefully, he removed the stomach, kidneys, ovaries, vagina, and
uterus. “Now, the stomach and kidneys you should keep, and if you want to make sausage, the
intestines. The rest you can pitch or feed to cannibal fluffs. I’ve got one that seems to love
ovaries. Rinse the meats carefully and freeze.”
After cleaning the offal, he pulls out the liver. “Ahh, here we are.” It’s distended, and full
of fat infiltrates, looking quite wrong. He sets it on a clean cutting board, and begins
slicing, making little trims. “Now, you’re going to want to remove this, and this. These are
bile ducts, and generally completely ruin cuts of liver. Then remove the blood vessels between
the lobes.”
He sets his oven to 212 Fahrenheit, and takes out a ceramic baking pan. “So, the split lobes
are laid in, and rubbed with pepper and sea salt.” He does so, massaging the spices in with his
fingertips, then pours in a pale yellow liquid. “Then, enough muscat or sauternes wine to
cover.”
He takes out a high-walled lasagna pan, and fits the ceramic one in, then carefully pours water
into the larger pan, until the ceramic pans just barely lift up. “This is a sort of double
boiler but it is quite effective.” He finishes as his oven beeps, and puts the pans in. “See
you in forty minutes.”
Intertitle, saying ‘40 minutes later’.
He takes the assemblage out, and picks up a slotted spoon. “Take your pelmeninator and skim off
the fat. hold onto this, it’s used later.”
He spends some time getting all the fat off, saving it in a bowl.
“Next up, you’re going to want to press the liver for 30 minutes, then refrigerate over
night. Then, melt the fat, pour it over the liver, and refrigerate for two days.”
Intertitle, reading ‘Three Days Later’.
He pulls out the finished foie gras, slicing off a piece and spreading it on crusty bread. He
takes a bite and sighs. “It’s a lot of work but it is so damn worth it.”
Another intertitle, this one with a comedy horn sound effect, reading ‘And now three days
back.’
Interocitor is shown putting the foie gras in the fridge, and then adjusting his lapel mic. The
editor zooms in on him fidgeting, with the caption ‘Quality ASMR’.
A jump cut and he’s back at the cutting block. 'Ok next up we’re going to do a recipe I got
from one of my friends in China, a Cantonese char siu, adapted for spit-roasted
fluffy. Continue dressing your fluff, but you’re going to want to save the heart, I don’t
usually eat the lungs but you can, and the esophagus is tossed. Technically everything I’ve said
to get rid of can be prepared in some manner, I just don’t."
A fast-motion shot of him prepping the fluffy is shown, going back to regular speed as he picks
up a cleaver, beheads the carcass, and cuts off the hooves. “Now, the head can be used for a
lot of hilarious jokes, this one’s going right back to the herd I stole it from. In the den of
the smarty. Preferably in the entrance, facing in, but I’ll get it where I can. The hooves,
though, go in the pot.”
He tosses the hooves in a large stockpot. “If you cook with vegetables and meat, always have a
pot on hand. You can very easily keep yourself in almost unmanageable levels of gourmand-grade
stocks if you toss your vegetable and meat offcuts in one, then simmer it for a while. Roasted
bones now and then and you’ll have the best stocks without any extra expenditure.”
The camera pans as he walks over to the other side of the stove, an array of bowls in place,
filled with a variety of thick liquids and powders. “So, first we make the basting sauce. This
is a heftier fluffy, so I’ll be making a recipe and a half. Start out with a quarter cup soy
sauce and hoisin sauce, two tablespoons five-spice powder, quarter cup honey, quarter cup
Chinese cooking wine, a teaspoon ground white pepper, two teaspoons sesame oil, four cloves of
grated garlic, and finally, after a trip to Detroit, four cubes red bean curd and a quarter cup
of the liquid.”
He assembles everything, and mixes it all into a velvety brown-red mixture. “This is a
fantastic sauce for pretty much any meat. I recommend letting it sit for a while before use
though, it seems to develop somehow.”
“Next, take the fluffy and prepare it for an internal marinade, which yes, is a thing. Put it on
its back, truss the legs together like so.” He illustrates, pulling the legs together until the
spine bends and the empty ass and neck point upwards, securing them with cooking twine. “Then,
fill with about half your marinade solution.” This is poured in as well.
“If you’re doing this with pork ribs, for instance, 4 hours is the minimum I’d marinade. With
this chonker of a fluffy, I’m sticking with 24 hours.”
Intertitle. ‘Again?’
Interocitor walks into frame with a long iron spit. “Time for the fun part. I’m starting at
around three in the afternoon, just to give a bit of extra time for this fluffy to cook. Drain
the marinade out and secure it to a spit. If you’re doing this with smaller cuts, you want to
reach an internal temperature of 175 Fahrenheit.”
He drains the marinade and continues preparing the fluffy. “Now, if you’re doing this recipe
in the oven I’d recommend 350, turning the meat every 20 minutes and re-basting. Spare ribs,
every ten.” Taking a few large, pinkie-thick spikes out of his pocket, he slides them in the
meat. “With a fluffy this big I’m using these cast iron pikes to secure the meat, but it also
helps conduct heat into the center of the fluffy.”
There’s another cut. Interocitor is at a brick island in a backyard, a fire going on top of a
limestone slab, and a large sheet-metal reflector oven facing it. He fits the fluffy in the
oven and puts his hand in front of it, facing the fire. “You’re going to want not quite a slow
fire. I can’t give numbers since this is one of those cooking techniques that just depends.”
He tilts out a small tray under the fluffy to show it to the camera. it’s long, and narrow,
with a rounded bottom. “This is your drippins’ tray. This will wind up full of fat and
marinade, which is perfect.” He takes out a ladle and pulls out the bowl of the remaining
marinade. “Now, how this works is you turn the fluffy every few minutes, and drizzle on some
of this char siu sauce.”
With some minor flair, he begins covering the meat in the sauce, until it drips off. “When you
run out of stuff in the bowl, baste it with the mixture in the drip pan.”
“Now, well, now is the long part of cooking this fluffy until it’s done. You need to keep up
the rhythm of basting and turning, so, I’m going to be here a bit.” He says, cracking open a
lager and jumping into fast forward. The fluffy becomes the center of the shot, turning rapidly
in the fast motion and becoming darker and darker reddish-brown, bits lightly charring over
time.
Inside, Interocitor sets the fluffy down on a cutting board, the surface of the fluffy a shiny
dark red. Slicing off a section of the thigh, it curls down, revealing a pork-like, steaming
meat.
He takes it, and sighs, turning it over and looking at it. “You know, I’m warning you now. If
there’s anything that will put people onto eating fluffy, it’s this dish.”
He eats it, sighs, leans back with a happy groan.
Another intertitle. ‘One meal later.’
“Mail time. Just one today because we’re already running over my average time.” He says,
reading from a clipboard, nursing a whiskey in a private study. “Sir, I am Mr. Angus’s
granddaughter, you can call me Nora, I also have a question. Is it true that fluffies similar
to the characters in the My little pony series behave like their counterparts? My grandfather
found a filly identical to AppleJack and we wanted to know if we can put it to work on the
farm. Thankful, Angus and Nora McKing”
He sighs, putting the clipboard down. “I’m afraid that’s HasBio propaganda. Fluffies that take
after show ponies are more or less identical to non-MLP looking ones. It’s common practice to
play fluffies that show and they’ll begin to act like the character they take after, but it
doesn’t actually mean they take on any of the useful characteristics. You might get a fluffy
that tries to speak with a southern accent, but it probably won’t like working. However, if you
don’t have a particular attachment to it, you can sell them to collectors or creepy
basement-dwellers for four digits and up, easily.”
“Well that’s it for this time folks, I’m going to go have a carb coma now. See you next time!”