Natural Selection Part 1[by Silverowl]
Paul was a walking contradiction, and considered himself a vigilante of sorts. He actually didn’t like to see fluffies tortured and abused on a wide-scale, but couldn’t deny his own blood-lust and sick satisfaction he gained from torturing the little abominations. Was it hypocritical? Sure, but that factoid was not something Paul entertained often. He usually would satisfy his needs about once a week by going to a hug-box no kill shelter and pick up all the fluffies if they let him, or as many as possible. Usually they were brown or grey fluffies with poor color combinations. Some of them had good colors but suffered from smarty-syndrome, causing their owners to give them up. While others had a significantly lower IQ than a standard fluffy (I know, how low can it get?) and consistently made bad-poopies and broke things being foolish.
Paul reasoned that the reason so many abused fluffies existed was due to the hox-boxers themselves. The majority of the fluffies to be abused were the ones with poor colors, smarties, and low IQ ones. The hug-boxers were removing natural selection of bad genes by adopting the above mentioned fluffy types, and breeding them. Those defective genes were kept in the population, so those types of fluffies persisted, and wide-scale abuse existed.
Hashbro had created the fluffy genome by using a miniature pony genome as a baseline, and splicing in artificially made genes relating to color, IQ giving them the intelligence of a two year old, and fast generation times. With any new technology so new and prone to error, the Hashbro geneticists did not take into account epistasis when introducing their Fluffy genes to the miniature pony genome. What happens when certain color gene combinations interfere with others? Well, you run the risk of creating poor colors. What happens when random mutations change some of the IQ genes spliced in? Smarties. The fluffies themselves were miracles of genetics, but they had a lot of unforeseen errors in their genomes. After all, the poor colors, smarties, and “dummeh fluffys” were an embarrassment to Hashbro and represented a defective product. They didn’t create them on purpose, they were random accidents which should have been purged in only a few generations.
In nature defective genes tend not to persist for multiple generations. Individuals in the population with preferred genes tend to reproduce more often, and the less desirable genes fade away via genetic drift and disappear from the population. Hug-boxers distort nature by educating fluffies that poopie colors are just as good, and convince healthy non-defective products of Hashbro to have special huggies with them. Hence the genes persist in the population.
Paul knew obviously he couldn’t solve the problem by himself, but he could at least do his part in improving the gene pool within his immediate area. He also posted a blog both on the abuse forums and the hug-box forums trying to explain his point of view. The abusers didn’t like what he had to say, as he was trying to lessen the availability of cheap fluffies to abuse. No abuser wanted to spend premium prices on good colored, well behaved fluffies. Why spend $500 on a premium fluffy when brown foals and smarties existed with deals like two for $5? The hug-boxers didn’t like what he had to say as he was advocating “the genocide of poor colors, and smarties”. Needless to say he was usually quickly banned for his ideas.
Thinking about all this, Paul made a conscious choice to become a vigilante of sorts. It was his job to clean up the fluffy gene pool and act as nature himself solving the problems of this new “species”. But nothing said he couldn’t have fun doing this service to nature. After all all work and no play is no way to live.
It was a Friday afternoon, and it was time to go to his favorite hug-boxer shelter. He loaded multiple carriers into his car, and drove there excited to have some fun that evening.
Arriving at the shelter, he was greeted with one of the usual fluffy vet-techs Jessica. Paul put on his best hug-boxer smile and said,
“Hi Jessica, you should see the fluffys, I rescued last week. They love their new safe-room and enjoyed sketties for the first time in their poor abused lives.”
(Paul chuckled in his head, as he had actually burned all those fluffys to death in his BBQ pit…he also tried some of their meat…just to see what it tasted like…just a small taste).
Jessica’s expression became this one of deep empathy and heartache as she sighed and said,
“That is so sweet. I think you are probably one of the kindest men I have ever met”.
Paul just replied “I try to be the best person I can for others and fluffys”.
Jessica smiled again and said, “well if you’re looking for more I actually have three in the back that need adoption”.
Paul eagerly agreed and followed her back to the kennel area which was decorated with bright obnoxious colors like human toddlers played there.
The first fluffy was this brown “soon-mummah”, and Paul thought, “just in time. Those foals would have allowed that defect to biologically survive”. The fluffy looked at Paul while making the “upsies” motion and started blathering.
“Be nu daddeh? Fluffy am soon-mummah, ne warm housies an blockies, and nummies for bestest milkies for bestest babbehs?”
The second was a bright blue fluffy with a pink mane that puffed his cheeks at Paul almost immediately. The ridiculous creature started spouting demands while stomping its fat leg and hoof on the ground.
“Dummeh hooman!!! Gib smartie sketties noa or get worstest hurties an sowwy poopies!”
Paul thought, “Holy shit I hate this thing. It’s going to be fun to slaughter it.”
The third and final fluffy was a pillow-fluff that was grey with a brown mane. It was also a “Soon-mummah” as some idiot had made it an effie-toy but forgot to spay it. “People are such fucking idiots”, Paul thought.
It just looked up at Paul having been abused for its entire life and expected to be abused.
“Nu gib hurties to soon-mummah pwease”
Paul looked back at Jessica, “I love them all. I can’t decide. Can I have all three of them? I know all the other fluffy rescues at home will love them too. I think one of the most important things we can do for society is show all fluffies, regardless of colors, attitudes, or IQ that we love them”. (Paul almost vomited saying these words. We created fluffies and were gods to them. It was our job to remove our own bad creations from the planet.)
Jessica smiled and replied, “Of course! Let me help you with the carriers!”.
With a smile Paul loaded the fluffies into his car, and started to drive home. His brain was alive with excitement of ‘what to do to them’. He glanced into his rear-view mirror just to see the tops of the carriers, but he heard the little abominations chattering to each other about “housies”, “sketties”, and “toysies”. They had no idea what awaited them.