I really like this one. I need to do more with this concept.
I’ve been injecting my stressball fluffy with large quantities of a solution comprised almost entirely of dopamine and serotonin through a surgically implanted IV port just behind his right shoulder.
Okay, hear me out.
Donatello had been a great stressball. I meab top notch. He screams all my favorite shit.
“DADDEH! NU HUWT DAWNIETEWWO! PWEASE! DADDEH NU WEMEMBA BABBEH DAWNIE? HUUHUUHUUUUU DADDEH FOWGET BABBEH CUZ AM BIG FWUFFY NAO HUUUU DAWNIE SOWWY DADDEH!”
“HUUU HUUUU DADDEH DAWNIETEWWO NU CAN WUN NU MOW HUUHUUUUUUUU MISS WUN AN PWAY”
“DADDEH NU TAKE WUMPS FWOM DAWNIE! AWWEADY TOOK WEGGIES, WUMPS ONWY FING DAWNIE HAB WEFT!”
Okay so the last one was kind of the Genesis for this whole thing, and I capitalized that because yaddah yaddah I am his God and his urges bow to my whims.
So I raised Donatello from a foal, yeah? Hand raised. Really careful. Incredibly loving, but never spoiled him. Raised him to be a good, confident, polite, and clever if you’ll believe it, little Shaferaraks. Took a year and a half before he was at a point where the Gamefaqs walkthrough said he’d have “emotionally calibrated.” Personally, I was dubious. They don’t seem like tech, they seem like meat. Meat don’t calibrate, it seeks an equilibrium. Oh well.
I’d heard that a fluffy who trusts you and loves you and has many fond memories of the two of you together is like four times as relaxing or something. Like it produces more relaxation units I guess, I’m not a doctor. And to begin with, it worked! I felt bad the first time, but I’d already gotten a much better foal to recharge with.
Donatello didn’t seem to be as willing to explore new ideas as I was.
“Daddeh? Wai gif huwties? Donnatewwo am daddeh’s babbeh! Wai daddeh nu wub Donnatewwo?”
“Huuhuuuu Donnatewwo nu wan mow huwties daddeh, pwease jus’ weabe Donnatewwo awone…”
“Huuuuuuu Donnatewwo suuuuuuuuuuu saddies huuhuuhuuuuuuuuuuuuuu”
It devolved quickly. Don’t get me wrong, whooping on him was great, but I think I went overboard taking his legs. I figured being immobile would make him easier to deal with, but unless I wanted to he constantly sheparding around a small throw pillow that cries and shits, he’d have to basically sleep in his litterbox. Or a diaper. Not sure which one he hated more.
And yes, I said hated. Not hates.
Like I said, they didn’t seem like tech to me. They seemed like meat. And meat don’t get calibrated.
Meat gets medicated.
I had already read up on fluffy biology. I wanted to know what chems make their shit work or whatever, and when Donatello was neutered he got really unmanageable. I learned online I could get him fake balls, and even inject hormones to simulate fluffy puberty in a controlled manner.
Turns out they’re pretty simple at most levels. They’ve got a standard set of, admittedly simplified, glands and hormones. But did you know that hugging a fluffy literally releases dopamine? It’s why huggies fix hurties, or so the cartoon horse on the internet told me. And being nice to a fluffy releases serotonin. They’ve literally got two extra glands to release more positive neurotransmitters when presented with specific stimuli the product engineers want to encourage.
Hey, unrelated thing, but did you know anyone can just sorta buy Dopamine and Serotonin?
It worked like a charm. Fuck, it’s almost too good. He didn’t just recover psychologically. He was ecstatic again. I hadn’t seen him this happy since he was a foal. I had to cut him off for fear I’d overdone it and he wouldn’t be useful anymore.
My fears were ill founded. He crashed off the dopamine and serotonin so he felt fucking miserable and while he never forgot about me hurting him, when he was “up” it didn’t seem to matter. He could deal with it. He didn’t even mind the needles. Now, he remembered loving daddy a minute ago but that just brought him more anguish. He was confused.
Eventually we found a happy medium. Now I whoop up on him like nobody’s business. I scream at him. I berate him. I threaten him. I lock him in the dark with monster noises. I cover him in feeder crickets and laugh while he cries. I let neighborhood ferals come in and mock him for fun.
Oh, and my favorite trick? Taking his balls away.
Since he’s neutered, they’re fakes. They’re in the right spot, encased in an artificial scrotum I bought him. It’s a thick leather and while it looks and feels real to the touch, it’s a lot easier to repair when it gets ripped off. The lumps themselves are connected via some weak surgical thread so it gives him the sensation of them being attached, having some mass. Helps them not think about how weird it is they can’t feel sensation on their scrote skin or something.
So naturally I’ve reattached them like twenty times at this point. As long as I pump him with the right hormones in the right dosages, I can set him right back up no problem.
Honestly, I’m kinda jealous. Little dude gets to be happy like ALL the time.
—————
Donnatewwo hab huwties. Nu hab weggies fow wun fwum huwties. Wun fwum daddeh.
Daddeh gif pointy owwies ebby day! But pointy owies nu am su bad. Donnatewwo feew bettew aftew.
Donnatewwo du feew bettew.
Bettew.
Hab heawt happies aww time.
Donnatewwo nu can contwow. Donnatewwo get wowstes’ owwies, and Donnatewwo cwy and cwy! Huhuhuhuhu! Su saddies! Su scawedies!
But wen daddeh gif pointy huwties, Donnatewwo nu make sad wawas nu mowe. Nu huhuhu ow nuffin,
But dat wong. Dat nu make sense.
Donnatewwo nu shud be happy! Donnatewwo hab wostes’ huwties! Hab meanie munstah daddeh! Nu hab weggies! Wumps am feew wong but nu knu wai! Aww Donnatewwo wan in whowe wowd am to hab happies an’ saddies make sense tu Donnatewwo 'gain!
Pwease finky pwace, wisten tu Donnatewwo! Nu wan be happy! Daddeh am meanie! Nee’ be angwy! Nee wun way fwom meanie munstahs! Nee get hewp! Nee-
“Hey buddy, sit still. Gotta hook up your Happy Hose.”
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