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 Paul’s 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. ‘What do I do, when I’ve purged all of them?’ 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. ‘They are accomplishing the goals of the greater good, but they are also dipping into my cache of fun’ he mused. No. He couldn’t be selfish, it wasn’t 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 wouldn’t go amiss. They are equally fun to torture, psychologically abuse, and kill.
Paul had an idea, it was so simple. Why hadn’t 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,
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 leader’
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 ‘scardie-poopies’ 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.
“Am gud babbeh! Am dancie babbeh, babbeh dancie fo ou!”
“Babbeh nu wan munstah! Pwese wingies hewp fluffy fwy away!”
“Mummah sabe babbeh frum munstah!”
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.
“Ladies 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 requests”. Paul chuckles for a second reading them to himself before speaking up, “Pillow one of the fluffies, then put it on your large table saw.” Paul laughs creepily with his clown mask “Ha…ha…ha…ha well Brian let me go ahead and grant your first wish”.
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 “somwun sabe fluffy!!! Munstah nu hurtie fluffy!!!”. Clamps secure the squirming fluffy as Paul leans in to talk to the struggling creature.
“Hi fluffy…I am a munstah, and I am going to make you a no leggie fluffy now. You’ll be a dummeh poopie no leggie fluffy”.
The fluffy immediately starts to protest and cry.
“Nuuu munstah nu wan wose weggies!! Dey am gud weggies ne fo wun an pway! Pwease no takie weggies!!!”. The fluffy begins to “huu huuh”.
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.
“Ready to lose your leggies fluffy?!”
The comments on the live-stream are a frenzy
“Dooooo itttttt!!! YYAASSSS!!!”
“Make that shit-rat suffer!!”
“Tell him he will never pway with blockies again! ROTFL”
“Do it slow!!!”
“Can you send me the leggies?!?”
“I love you Paul!!!”
“I hate fluffies”
“Purge them all Paul!!!”
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.
“SCRRREEEEEEE MUNSTAH GIB WEGGIES WORSTEST HURTIES!!! CHIRP!!! SABE BABBEH MUMMAH!!!”
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.
“The saw munstah is going to give you forever sleepies now fluffy. Ha…ha…ha…ha”
“NUUUU GIB FWUFFY FOREBA SWEEPIES MUNSTAH!!! AM GUD FLUFFY MAKE GUD POOPIES!!! AM GUD FLUFFY”
The shouting of the fluffy is drowned out by the sound “VVVNNNNNNNNN” from the saw being powered on. Paul glides the table saw along its track towards the fluffy slowly. The fluffy squirms and “SCREEEs” 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, “Next request from Brian, ‘can you electrocute one of them?’ Yes! Of course I can. I have even built out of oak, a fluffy old sparky. It’s adorable!” 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.
“Ok fluffy the sparky munstah is going to give you forever sleepies!”
The fluffy immediately starts begging for its life and demonstrating its worth.
“Wook am gud dancie babbeh. Bestest dancie babbeh. Babbeh am dancie fo ou. Babbeh wub ou!”
The comments section is once again excited
The chair will make him dance! LOL
What a stupid dance!
You’re an ugly poopie babbeh and nobody loves you!!
I can’t wait until these things are extinct…but 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 fluffy’s anus. He was wearing a raincoat, but he also didn’t 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.
“NUUU TOUCHIE POOPIE PWACE!!! HAB WORSTEST HURTIES IN POOPIE PWACE!!!”
Then grabbing a fluffy diaper he put it on the squirming fluffy.
“Fluwwy make gud poopies why daddeh put meanie thing in poopie pwace and make fluffy hab dummeh diaper?!”
He doesn’t acknowledge the fluffy’s 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 fluffy’s arms, legs, and midsection. While being strapped in, and after the fluffy is still ranting.
“Babbeh wubs ou pwease no hurties fo babbeh. Babbeh hab gud poopies, no am poopie bad babbeh? NU GIB FOREVER SWEEPIES TO BABBEH!!”
Paul doesn’t bother shaving the fluffy’s head or leg fluff, and just attaches the electrode to the fluffy’s 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 “likes” on his profile.
The fluffy’s ranting about producing ‘gud poopies’, is cut short when Paul flips a little switch on the control box. A low hum can be heard by the audience. The fluffy’s body immediately stiffens as all of its muscles contract, and smoke begins to rise up around the fluffy’s fluff. Patches of fluff catch on fire, as blood begins to pour from the fluffy’s eyes, nose, and ears. Paul leaves the chair on for about 20 seconds.
One of the fluffy’s 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 “like” button as he got more and more up-votes.
“Ok we will conclude tonight’s show with Brian’s third wish. Which is” Paul looks at the paper again and smirks. “Roasted alive! Well Brian, your wish is my command! Thank you again for the $500!”
Paul disappears off camera again, as the audience listens to him rummaging through equipment and clanging of metal objects. “Bare with me ladies and gentlemen, I know I have a roasting spit somewhere…Ahh! There! ok.” 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.
“How many of you want to see a magic trick?!”
The comments section goes wild.
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!
That’s it I have to send in a donation too!
This is AWESOMEEEEE!!!
Paul holds up a finger and says.
“I am going to put this spit through the fluffy without killing it”.
The audience chat blows up with “No way!!!” and “Do it!!!” 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.
“Pwease munstah nu hurties fluffy. Fluffy am gud fluffy an make gud poopies fo daddeh. I make gud poopies fo ou”.
Paul clears his throat and says. “Listen to what this abomination is offering me. Let this remind us why our work is so important. This parasite’s only contribution to me would be it not shitting where it shouldn’t shit. That is the best it has to offer. Which is why we have found a higher purpose for fluffys, which is our entertainment”.
“Fluffy meet Mr. Pokie” Paul holds up the sharp metal rod towards the fluffy. With one hand holding the squirming fluffy he positioned the sharp point at the fluffy’s poopie place and found the entrance pushing in.
“Nuuuuu hurtie poopie pwace!!! Poopie pwace hab worstest hurties!!!”
Paul pushed the sharp spike up the center of the fluffy, piercing the layers of intestines, missed the fluffy’s 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.
“Ta-Daaaaa!!! Still alive!!” The audience chat was a frenzy of applause, likes, and admiration of Paul and his magic trick.
The fluffy’s eyes darted around frantically, its mind racing from the hurties to why it couldn’t talk anymore, as it wheezed on the spit and its little hooves frantically twitched about feeling ‘worstest hurties ebawhere!’ 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 ‘fluffy am in sunshiney time? With grassies? Fluffy pway baw an wun an pway. Fwuffy am bestest at wun an pway hab gud weggies’. As its mind drifts back to the pain of the spit and the fluffy thinks, ‘HEWP FLUFFY HAB WORSTEST POINTY HURTIES!!!’. The heat quickly becomes too much and the fluffy forgets about the ‘pointy hurties’ 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 ‘poopie pwace’.
The fluffy’s last thoughts being, “POOPIE PWACE AN ALL OBA WORSTEST BURNIE HURTIES!!!” as the fluffy tries to scream only for a little wisp of smoke to exit its mouth. The fluffy’s fluff then caught on fire and created a fireball for the audience. Paul took a bow, and turned off the camera.
‘That was fun, and it sure pleased the fans…but 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.’ 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 ‘how can I put these 100,000k fluffies to good use while I find time to execute them all?’. 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. ‘Yes, this could work actually’, 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 aren’t breeding, and they’ll be dead soon enough…but there isn’t 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.
“Fwuffy am bestest fawmer eba pwant all da cawots!”
“Fwuffy wub Pawl him bestest daddeh eba! Be gud fawmer fluffy an mak gud poopies.”
“Fwuffy am pwanting peanutz fo daddeh.”
“Fwuffy am pwanting cabbage fo ou. Fwuffy wub daddeh.”
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 ‘Fluffies! I am your Daddeh, Paul. If you work hard on my farm, and grow a lot of crops, I will send you to Skettie-Land’. Paul thought, ‘that’s funny because its a huge lie, but also true as many fluffies refer to their afterlife as ‘skettie-land’…and that is where he was sending them’. This made him chuckle to himself as he continued to patrol the grounds, shouting slogans to the fluffies like “Work hard and you will be rewarded! Work badly and monsters will come! Be good fluffies for Skettie-Land!”. 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 ‘if cleanliness is next to Godliness, then I am the God of all fluffies as my soul is pure.’ He fell asleep dreaming of a purified world free of fluffies…ALL FLUFFIES.