Natural Selection Part 5: By SilverOwl
It has been over 8 years since Paul started his purge of impure fluffy genes from the gene-pool. Every week it became a little harder to find undesirable fluffies, which was good, and it was also bad. It was good because his goal of purifying the fluffy species was nearing completion. Paul would hit up shelters and various fluffy kennels in a 40 square mile radius around his house weekly. He would usually find one, maybe two fluffies to have fun with. This was bad, as this provided fewer fluffies to abuse, therefore less entertainment. Even beyond a 40 square mile radius, Paul was likely to see the same fluffy shortages.
In the last 5 years of Paulâs struggle, he was joined by multiple other abusers across the world. His forum posts and rhetoric had struck a chord with thousands of people worldwide. The birth of this fluffy purging revolution started on 4chan, but has sense spawned unique forums just for fluffy purging. They formed their own forum groups and designated Paul as their leader. Those that recognized him from his profile picture, when he traveled were in one of his fluffy purification groups. He was often greeted with respect and reverence when traveling by his followers. He was given free meals, free accommodations, and the abuse-box women treated him like Elvis.
Some in his followers estimated a complete purge of poorly colored fluffies, smarties, and generally selfish demanding ill behaved fluffies was achievable within ten years. It was all coming together for Paul. He had moved a couple years ago from his modest house to an actual ranch on 75 acres of land. There, his reptiles had a special room and the floor was made of tile so it was easy to clean from fluffy feedings. He even had a Bitchute channel for all his live feedings. He was banned from Youtube within a few days for fluffy hate speech and cruel and unusual torture of fluffies.
At his ranch he had a special room just for the fluffies. It had everything from pillowing stations, electric saws, various tools like hammers, ice-picks, tourniquets, and car batteries with jumper cables, and many other tools he used on the fluffies.
His biggest concern was not having any poopie fluffies or smarties to use all his toys on. It was a legitimate concern that kept him up at night. âWhat do I do, when Iâve purged all of them?â he often thought out-loud laying in bed staring into the darkness. Mixed regrets flooded his mind about creating so many followers of his work. âThey are accomplishing the goals of the greater good, but they are also dipping into my cache of funâ he mused. No. He couldnât be selfish, it wasnât just about him or his fun. It was about bettering society as a whole. Besides, if he ran out of undesirable fluffies due to his fluffy purification squads, then a few good color fluffies wouldnât go amiss. They are equally fun to torture, psychologically abuse, and kill.
Paul had an idea, it was so simple. Why hadnât he come up with this before now? His followers were fanatically devoted to him. They would probably SEND HIM fluffies via live animal UPS deliveries if he asked them to! All he had to do was post on one of the many forums his requests, and he would have more fluffies than he could handle every week! He could even live stream the exterminations of said fluffies, and in essence give a kickback to his followers as they were honored by him killing their fluffy on air and giving them credit! It was brilliant!
Paul posted a few requests in various forums that read,
'Everyone,
As we near our goal of fluffy purification, it is difficult to find fluffies to abuse, torture, and kill. Their populations have plummeted to less than 10% of what it was previous to our work. Like many of you, I enjoy my work. What we do is a matter of honor. If you would like me to honor you with a fluffy livestream, please send me a fluffy with your initials, and date you sent in the fluffy. If you include a donation of $100 or more, I will kill it in the manner you specify in your letter.
Paul, the leaderâ
Within a few days, Paul received dozens of boxes of fluffies per day. After the 5th day of receiving 12-25 fluffies per day, he started to fall behind exterminating them. He was thankful to live on a ranch and started to penning the fluffies in a large enclosure meant for horses. Most of them were poopie fluffies, although as the weeks went by fewer poopie fluffies were coming in. They were becoming endangered.
Paul would sharpie a shaved portion behind their neck with the initials of the follower, date received, and a * if the follower had any special requests with a donation. With the donations, and site traffic from live views, Paul was able to quit his job, as he had increased his income 100x.
Paul put on a nice clear raincoat over-top of his business suit. He also wore a simple halloween clown mask. His followers knew what he looked like, but this helped with psychologically torturing the fluffies. They usually made a lot of âscardie-poopiesâ seeing him, hence the raincoat. Paul got the lighting right, checked his watch, and turned on the live-stream.
Beside him was a carrier with three poopie fluffies inside. All of them were chattering.
âAm gud babbeh! Am dancie babbeh, babbeh dancie fo ou!â
âBabbeh nu wan munstah! Pwese wingies hewp fluffy fwy away!â
âMummah sabe babbeh frum munstah!â
Paul stands motionless in front of the camera as his audience enjoys the pathetic pleas of the fluffies. After a good 20 seconds, he speaks up.
âLadies and gentlemen. Tonight I bring you three poopie fluffies from 'Brian Rodriguez who graciously donated $500. Thank you so much Brian, people like you keep society worth living in. Brian has several requestsâ. Paul chuckles for a second reading them to himself before speaking up, âPillow one of the fluffies, then put it on your large table saw.â Paul laughs creepily with his clown mask âHaâŚhaâŚhaâŚha well Brian let me go ahead and grant your first wishâ.
Paul opens the carrier and picks up a brown pegasus and puts it down on his pillowing station. It immediately starts crying and asking for âsomwun sabe fluffy!!! Munstah nu hurtie fluffy!!!â. Clamps secure the squirming fluffy as Paul leans in to talk to the struggling creature.
âHi fluffyâŚI am a munstah, and I am going to make you a no leggie fluffy now. Youâll be a dummeh poopie no leggie fluffyâ.
The fluffy immediately starts to protest and cry.
âNuuu munstah nu wan wose weggies!! Dey am gud weggies ne fo wun an pway! Pwease no takie weggies!!!â. The fluffy begins to âhuu huuhâ.
Paul allows about 30 seconds to pass allowing his audience time to enjoy the psychological abuse, and for him to enjoy it as well. Paul straps the fluffy into the pillowing station. The apparatus is essentially four miniature guillotines which have little automated insta-heal gel applicators after the blades drop. Paul raises the four spring loaded blades by hearing a click pulling them to the top.
âReady to lose your leggies fluffy?!â
The comments on the live-stream are a frenzy
Comments:
âDooooo itttttt!!! YYAASSSS!!!â
âMake that shit-rat suffer!!â
âTell him he will never pway with blockies again! ROTFLâ
âDo it slow!!!â
âCan you send me the leggies?!?â
âI love you Paul!!!â
âI hate fluffiesâ
âPurge them all Paul!!!â
Paul flips each of the four switches as the spring loaded blades slam down on the fluffies restrained leggies. Within 10 seconds the four blades had pillowed him. During and after the amputations the fluffy screamed.
âSCRRREEEEEEE MUNSTAH GIB WEGGIES WORSTEST HURTIES!!! CHIRP!!! SABE BABBEH MUMMAH!!!â
The comments section lit up with mostly "LOL"s and messages of admiration for Paul. Next, he picked up the newly pillowed fluffy and placed him in the center of his table saw, with the fluffy sitting in the path of the blade. He positioned the fluffy so if it looked to its right it would see the saw coming, but if he looked to the left he would be looking into the camera.
âThe saw munstah is going to give you forever sleepies now fluffy. HaâŚhaâŚhaâŚhaâ
âNUUUU GIB FWUFFY FOREBA SWEEPIES MUNSTAH!!! AM GUD FLUFFY MAKE GUD POOPIES!!! AM GUD FLUFFYâ
The shouting of the fluffy is drowned out by the sound âVVVNNNNNNNNNâ from the saw being powered on. Paul glides the table saw along its track towards the fluffy slowly. The fluffy squirms and âSCREEEsâ as it sees it coming, then looks at the camera letting the audience drink in the delicious agony. After a few seconds a fine spray of blood can be seen erupting from the side of the fluffy, as the saw moves through fluff, flesh, and bone with no problem.
The sawed in two fluffy lay on the table twitching its eyes and mouth still moving around but no sound comes out of the mouth except a gurgle. The audience cheers and Paul takes a bow.
Paul clears his throat and says, âNext request from Brian, âcan you electrocute one of them?â Yes! Of course I can. I have even built out of oak, a fluffy old sparky. Itâs adorable!â Paul goes off camera for about a minute before returning with a fluffy sized electric chair. He plugs it in and gets a good angle so the audience will be able to hear and see the fluffy well. He arbitrarily grabs one of the two poopie fluffies from the carrier and places it near the chair and says.
âOk fluffy the sparky munstah is going to give you forever sleepies!â
The fluffy immediately starts begging for its life and demonstrating its worth.
âWook am gud dancie babbeh. Bestest dancie babbeh. Babbeh am dancie fo ou. Babbeh wub ou!â
The comments section is once again excited
Comments:
FRRRYYYY HIM!!!
The chair will make him dance! LOL
What a stupid dance!
Youâre an ugly poopie babbeh and nobody loves you!!
I canât wait until these things are extinctâŚbut it is fun 
Paul IS GOAT!!!
I hope he lights on fire
Paul can I have your sperm?
Give him a sorry stick for that dance!
Finding a small rubber fluffy buttplug, Paul lubes it up and pushes it into the fluffyâs anus. He was wearing a raincoat, but he also didnât fancy scardie or hurtie poopies to let loose when he flipped the switch, not to mention the poopies from the shock itself. The fluffy reacted immediately.
âNUUU TOUCHIE POOPIE PWACE!!! HAB WORSTEST HURTIES IN POOPIE PWACE!!!â
Then grabbing a fluffy diaper he put it on the squirming fluffy.
âFluwwy make gud poopies why daddeh put meanie thing in poopie pwace and make fluffy hab dummeh diaper?!â
He doesnât acknowledge the fluffyâs questions or protests, he just positions the fluffy with its back facing the chair, and moves it into the seat. Paul adjusts the fluffy, and straps it into the chair with a number of belts and buckles for the fluffyâs arms, legs, and midsection. While being strapped in, and after the fluffy is still ranting.
âBabbeh wubs ou pwease no hurties fo babbeh. Babbeh hab gud poopies, no am poopie bad babbeh? NU GIB FOREVER SWEEPIES TO BABBEH!!â
Paul doesnât bother shaving the fluffyâs head or leg fluff, and just attaches the electrode to the fluffyâs leg, and positions the head piece on with a dry sponge. He wants the fluffy to smoke and burn as much as possible for more âlikesâ on his profile.
The fluffyâs ranting about producing âgud poopiesâ, is cut short when Paul flips a little switch on the control box. A low hum can be heard by the audience. The fluffyâs body immediately stiffens as all of its muscles contract, and smoke begins to rise up around the fluffyâs fluff. Patches of fluff catch on fire, as blood begins to pour from the fluffyâs eyes, nose, and ears. Paul leaves the chair on for about 20 seconds.
One of the fluffyâs eyes fell out, blood openly poured from its eyes, mouth, and nose, and large portions of it fluff were completely burned along with blistered and charred skin. The audience cheered and Paul could see little hearts floating around the âlikeâ button as he got more and more up-votes.
âOk we will conclude tonightâs show with Brianâs third wish. Which isâ Paul looks at the paper again and smirks. âRoasted alive! Well Brian, your wish is my command! Thank you again for the $500!â
Paul disappears off camera again, as the audience listens to him rummaging through equipment and clanging of metal objects. âBare with me ladies and gentlemen, I know I have a roasting spit somewhereâŚAhh! There! ok.â Paul comes back on camera holding a sharp straight rod, and in the other hand what looks like an electric stove burner that is a stand-alone.
âHow many of you want to see a magic trick?!â
The comments section goes wild.
Comments:
FIRRRRE DEATH!!! YYAAASSSS!!!
The flames of purity!!!
WOOOOOTTT FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE!!!
Magic the fluffy to have forever sleepies!!
KILL ALL FLUFFIES!!
You magic my panties down Paul
He always gives the best deaths to us!
Thatâs it I have to send in a donation too!
This is AWESOMEEEEE!!!
Paul holds up a finger and says.
âI am going to put this spit through the fluffy without killing itâ.
The audience chat blows up with âNo way!!!â and âDo it!!!â from the excited room. Paul smiles looking at the live-stream counter at over 75,000 viewers. He picks up the last fluffy from the carrier and places it down on the bench with the mini electric stove burner, and some metal apparatus Paul had obviously made himself by welding metal rods together. The foal began to reason with Paul in the best way that it could.
âPwease munstah nu hurties fluffy. Fluffy am gud fluffy an make gud poopies fo daddeh. I make gud poopies fo ouâ.
Paul clears his throat and says. âListen to what this abomination is offering me. Let this remind us why our work is so important. This parasiteâs only contribution to me would be it not shitting where it shouldnât shit. That is the best it has to offer. Which is why we have found a higher purpose for fluffys, which is our entertainmentâ.
âFluffy meet Mr. Pokieâ Paul holds up the sharp metal rod towards the fluffy. With one hand holding the squirming fluffy he positioned the sharp point at the fluffyâs poopie place and found the entrance pushing in.
âNuuuuu hurtie poopie pwace!!! Poopie pwace hab worstest hurties!!!â
Paul pushed the sharp spike up the center of the fluffy, piercing the layers of intestines, missed the fluffyâs liver, then missed the heart, puncturing one lung, and the sharp point exits the mouth. The fluffy takes shallow long breaths as there is room around the spike for air to enter the one lung not pierced, and not many arteries were destroyed so the fluffy had not bled to death.
âTa-Daaaaa!!! Still alive!!â The audience chat was a frenzy of applause, likes, and admiration of Paul and his magic trick.
The fluffyâs eyes darted around frantically, its mind racing from the hurties to why it couldnât talk anymore, as it wheezed on the spit and its little hooves frantically twitched about feeling âworstest hurties ebawhere!â it thought. As its mind raced the fluffy thought 'why fluffy can nu muv why fluffy hurties. Am bad fluffy? Mak gud poopies fo daddeh am gud fluffy!! Nee huggies frum mummah hab worstest hurties!!!"
Plugging in the burner, Paul positions what looks like two tripods on either side of the burner, each with a little area to latch on the spit. He lifts the fluffy still twitching with its eyes darting around on the roasting mechanism as the spits click into place.
The heat at first almost feels nice to the fluffy, like the warm sun on your skin. The fluffy is delusional at this point from the pain, and thinks âfluffy am in sunshiney time? With grassies? Fluffy pway baw an wun an pway. Fwuffy am bestest at wun an pway hab gud weggiesâ. As its mind drifts back to the pain of the spit and the fluffy thinks, âHEWP FLUFFY HAB WORSTEST POINTY HURTIES!!!â. The heat quickly becomes too much and the fluffy forgets about the âpointy hurtiesâ and begins to think about the incredible dry heat on its fluff and skin. The metal spit begins to heat as well and the fluffy feels the rod heat up cooking its insides and burning its throat, guts, and âpoopie pwaceâ.
The fluffyâs last thoughts being, âPOOPIE PWACE AN ALL OBA WORSTEST BURNIE HURTIES!!!â as the fluffy tries to scream only for a little wisp of smoke to exit its mouth. The fluffyâs fluff then caught on fire and created a fireball for the audience. Paul took a bow, and turned off the camera.
âThat was fun, and it sure pleased the fansâŚbut I just spent an hour getting rid of 3 fluffies. I got 43 fluffies today alone. I need to find a use for the fluffies and put them to work somehow.â he thought.
Paul had over 100,000k fluffies on the ranch at this point. He kept the mares and stallions separated in two large pens on opposite sides of the ranch. He thought âhow can I put these 100,000k fluffies to good use while I find time to execute them all?â. He wondered if they could be taught to farm. After all, horses can work on farms, and fluffys are like miniature horses, that understand language. âYes, this could work actuallyâ, he thought.
Several months later, with each night executing 3 to 4 fluffies, Paul still has over 100k fluffies
It took several months but Paul was able to turn the fluffies into farmers on his ranch. They planted carrots, beats, strawberries, peanuts, and soy beans. Paul had even hired a small human farm crew to help the fluffies harvest and organize crops to sell. Between his followers sending him donations, and the farm, Paul was in the 1% financially. Paul reasoned that 'while there are over 100k fluffies here, they arenât breeding, and theyâll be dead soon enoughâŚbut there isnât any reason not to profit on them in the meantime.
Paul walked around the ranch lines with layers of barbed wire to section off herds of 20-30 fluffies, farming their patches. The fluffies can be heard chattering.
âFwuffy am bestest fawmer eba pwant all da cawots!â
âFwuffy wub Pawl him bestest daddeh eba! Be gud fawmer fluffy an mak gud poopies.â
âFwuffy am pwanting peanutz fo daddeh.â
âFwuffy am pwanting cabbage fo ou. Fwuffy wub daddeh.â
Paul walks by sternly watching and making sure none of the fluffies are slacking in their responsibilities. Paul smirks to himself, remembering what he had told the fluffies âFluffies! I am your Daddeh, Paul. If you work hard on my farm, and grow a lot of crops, I will send you to Skettie-Landâ. Paul thought, âthatâs funny because its a huge lie, but also true as many fluffies refer to their afterlife as âskettie-landââŚand that is where he was sending themâ. This made him chuckle to himself as he continued to patrol the grounds, shouting slogans to the fluffies like âWork hard and you will be rewarded! Work badly and monsters will come! Be good fluffies for Skettie-Land!â. Smirking, and quiet proud of himself he walks back to his ranch house to sit and enjoy his wealth. He admired his rare coin collection, answered some emails, and went to bed.
Paul went to sleep that night feeling clean. He felt that his work, and the work he inspired others to do, was purifying and improving the world. He could have no greater comfort, than knowing he was doing the right thing. Before he fell asleep he thought âif cleanliness is next to Godliness, then I am the God of all fluffies as my soul is pure.â He fell asleep dreaming of a purified world free of fluffiesâŚALL FLUFFIES.
butâŚwhy?