Wan Die (By FJ668)

The fluffy brain, as confusing as it is at some moments is luckily something that humans have intimate knowledge of. Leaked documents from Hasbio before going under made sure that those interested had copious amounts of spreadsheets, graph data, and overall information on the precise workings of the creature’s bodies. For an average man, this meant nearly nothing, information too complex to be used outside of a laboratory environment. Luckily for Robert, he weas being hired to study these little monsters and find out what could be done for fluffy care for the average man.

Robert’s test subject was Marshmallow, she was a young fluffy, one that had just started to know of the experiments that they would do with one another. She had lost her offspring, not due to some tragedy but rather because you made sure to squash them one by one as a form of obedience training. It didn’t work, she was left near catatonic from grief and her heart-rate spikes to double its resting rate whenever the doors to her room opened. What was known was that she would never be broken, his deep studies into mountains of Hasbio paperwork made sure that he knew how to prevent it.

“Hello today Marshmallow, are you ready to continue our experiments?” Robert asked the fluffy calmly, taking a clipboard into his hands and writing down the basic biometric data that monitors had told him about the fluffy. He had learned long ago that writing on paper was preferred when working with fluffies, lest you want to replace a feces-caked tablet every time a fluffy surprises you with sorry poopies.

'MAWSHMEWWOW WAN DIE! WAN DIE WAN DIE WAN DIE WAN DIE!" The fluffy screeched. A Wan Die loop as clear as day.

“Huh, you shouldn’t be…” Robert pondered to himself before turning around. You forgot to turn off the live feed in her room of the grinder for disposed of foals. She had spent the last 48 hours of the weekend watching many foals, ones that even looked like hers, be violently ground into a paste. He turned the television off before leaning over in front of Marsh, snapping his fingers in front of her face.

“Marshmallow, c’mon snap out of it,” Robert ordered her. The likely hood of simple finger snaps working was pretty low but it was never too late to give it a try. After about a minute trying to snap her out of the loop wasn’t worth the minor discomfort in his fingers.

“Alright then, Plan B it is. Hold still, girl.” Robert said to Marshmallow, grabbing her by the scruff and pressing her into the ground of her little enclosure.

On his desk were a variety of tools to help fix this whole “Wan Die” loop problem. Despite their protests, other-wise fluffies were toys, and unless it was totally broken a toy could be prepared. A small incision was made at the base of the fluffy’s horn, the scalpel cutting through the soft tissue and bone like butter. The scalpel was put to the side before a small pen-like device was taken off the table.

“Alright, enough of that.” Robert had enough of the constant screeching of the fluffy begging for death. The pen was inserted into the incision and Robert pressed a single button on it. A small shock went through the fluffy’s frontal cortex and the next moment the fluffy was cured of his whining.

After months of research, Robert had learned that partial brain death was the cause for fluffy’s wan die loop. The frontal cortex tended to die after extreme enough psychological trauma, resulting in Fluffies being capable of only expressing their latest thought at the moment. As that tended to be wanting to die it resulted in the annoying loop that ended so many abuser’s fun. However, learning of a fluffy being so elated their minds break wasn’t unknown of either. The end result didn’t matter, the method of fixing it was the same either way.

“MAWSHMAWWOW HATECHU! WET MUMMAH DIE!” The experiment protested eliciting a quick chuckle from Robert.

“As peppy as ever I see Marshmallow. Don’t worry Marshmallow, you’ll die eventually. Maybe even today if my experiment doesn’t work, however, I’m fairly certain this will work.” Robert explained to the fluffy, leaving the room for a brief moment to bring back another fluffy.

“WET SMAWTY GU! GIB WOWSTEST SOWWY POOPIES!” The brat of a fluffy said before trying to coat him in that horrid concoction. Luckily for Robert, the fluffy was corked up at the moment so there would be no sorry poopies today. Not as if she could give him sorry poopies anyways, Robert made triple sure that the fluffy was evacuated. The enema he gave her led to especially hilarious protests from the smarty.

“Marshmallow, this is…well she won’t tell me her name. So I guess you’ll just have to call her smarty.” Robert said before putting the smarty fluffy into some thorough restraints. It was to the point where the smarty couldn’t even move his limbs or tail, he didn’t need anything messing with his experiment.

“DUMMEH DADDEH! SMAWTY NU CAN MOVE!” The protests continued before Robert grabbed a straight Razor and some shaving cream. He coated the fluffy’s head and neck in the white foam before casually starting to remove the fluff off of the smarty. The smarty mare was practically foaming at the mouth in fury at the idea of her fluff being removed. She didn’t even make protests just an ear-splitting “SCREEEEE!” while her head was turned bald.

“Marshmallow, have you ever heard of the autojektor? Very old Soviet invention, pretty similar to our modern-day ECMO machines. Much less advanced, however, we’re way better at making heart and lung machines these days.” Robert explained to the fluffy. He knew that she would have no idea what he was talking about, however, casual conversation was still enjoyed with the experiment.

“Wha dummeh munstah daddeh tawkin’ bout?” The mare asked, having calmed down knowing that usually there was nothing to stop Robert’s experiments.

“Oh don’t worry Marshmallow, just know that there’s a chance you might get what you want out of this,” Robert said to Marshmallow, making quick work of shaving off her fluff despite his experiment’s complaints about wanting to keep her pretty fluff.

“Oh quit your complaining Marshmallow, in a few hours you’re going to have even prettier fluff. I never really liked the whole green fluff on white fur thing, it’s an annoying contrast.” He explained to the fluffy before pulling over two separate ECMO machines to the fluffies. He was excited, he wasn’t going to have to listen to the constant shit spewing from the smarty and Marshmallow’s Huuing was somewhat annoying as well.

The smarty was first. The bindings she was attached to also included a guillotine, one that would quickly and cleanly sever the head of the smarty. Her Jugular vein and Carotid artery were quickly hooked up to the machine before brain death could occur. The monitors showed that the fluffy still had brain activity but of course, with no lungs, it couldn’t speak.

“Alright…are you brain dead?” Robert asked the smarty before poking it directly in the eye with his finger. Considering that the fluffy’s brow furrowed and its mouth opened presumably to spout insults Robert was confident that the fluffy wasn’t brain dead. It didn’t matter if this specific fluffy was brain-dead but it meant that Marshmallow would most likely stay with him.

Marshmallow meanwhile was running around her pen like a chicken with its head cut off. Despite her desire to die the gruesome fate that the smarty met was still enough to send her into a panic. He rolled his eyes at the fluffy, it’s not like she was going to die, the smarty didn’t.

“And here I thought you wanted to die, talk about mixed messages,” Robert said, carefully removing the smarty’s decapitated, still living head from the restraints and putting it onto a mantle so it wouldn’t accidentally drop to the floor. The body itself was sealed in a plastic bag and put to the side. It was Marshmallow’s turn for the device.

“Alright, upsies. It’s your turn for it.” Robert explained, picking up Marshmallow and putting her into the restraints that the smarty was in. Same as last time, he removed the head, hooked up the ECMO machine, and tested for brain death. It worked perfectly fine, meaning that he was ready for the next part of the experiment.

A brain-dead fluffy was also in the room with them at the time, covered up because Marshmallow really didn’t like seeing it drooling in a derped stupor constantly. The thing was going to get the death that it probably deserved. Robert dragged Marshmallow’s head over to the fluffy before getting things started.

The scalp of both fluffies were removed with a scalpel, a steady hand, and plenty of practice made sure that Robert wouldn’t damage the brain of either fluffy. Marshmallow was still conscious to see this happening, tears welling up in her eyes as it was the only way of expressing her sadness. Cutting off a fluffy’s head and keeping it alive was simple as could be, people could do it in the 40s let alone in the modern day. Now came the complicated part of this experiment.

Carefully the brain of the first fluffy was removed, not wanting to damage any major blood vessels in the brain-dead fluffy’s neck or brain. Even the eyes were left undamaged, being popped out of their sockets with no damage whatsoever. Robert let out a pant of stress, knowing that the next part could very well cause the death of Marshmallow.

“Alright, here we go,” Robert said to himself before severing the connection of Marshmallow’s brain to her body. He was as quick as could be while still managing to stay careful in the scenario. Lightning-fast sutures to attach Marshmallow’s Carotid and Jugular to the donor fluffy’s body. Blood was already pumping through to the brain, the donor fluff having been attached to another ECMO machine so that its heart wouldn’t give out.

“Okay c’mon…c’mon…” Robert said, staring at the monitors attached to Marshmallow’s new body. Blood was flowing, not that it was the body’s choice. He started to attach monitors to keep track of brain signals in the fluffy. As it started to show signs of life Robert got more and more elated at the prospect that this very well might have worked. Smelling salts were next, there was only so much monitors could tell you when the fluffy could tell what happened. They were placed under Marshmallow’s nose and luckily the fluffy woke up from the trauma.

“W-w-w” The fluffy started to speak, probably still in trauma from the event that happened.

“C’mon Marshmallow, stay with me. What are you trying to say?” Robert asked, getting right up in the fluffy’s face only to see its pupils start to shrink.

“W-W-WAN DIE! WAN DIE!” Marshmallow shouted, eliciting Robert to start his own shouting of pride.

“FUCK YEAH!” Robert shouted in pride for what he accomplished.

“WAN DIE WAN DIE WAN DIE!” Marshmallow continued, screaming even louder to try and talk over Robert.

“TAKE THAT BRUKHONENKO! THAT’S HOW YOU PLAY GOD!” Robert went on, knowing that now Fluffies could be resuscitated even after the most extreme trauma.

The screaming of Marshmallow was annoying however, leading Robert to grab his shock device and give Marshmallow’s cortex a quick zap while her skull a quick zap to get rid of that pesky wan die loop. Despite the lack of a wan die loop Marshmallow was still more than willing to complain about her predicament.

“D-dis nu Mawshmawwow! Munstah daddeh put Mawshmawwow back! Wan pwetty white fwuff! Wan gween mane! Mawshmawwow wan die! Wet Mawshmawwow die!” The fluffy complained, not entering a loop yet but rather just trying to plead for death genuinely.

“Oh that’s the beauty Marshmallow, now you’ll never have to die. You could get every bone in your body broken, have your lungs and heart removed, be burned alive, and you’ll never get the release as long as I don’t destroy that pretty little brain. All you can hope for is if this doesn’t stop aging which we will certainly be seeing if it works or not. The applications of this are amazing! Good fluffies could stay with their owners for years and years no matter how accident-prone they are. And think of what we could do with humans now that we know brain transplants are possible.” Robert went off on the fluffy, explaining her now endless predicament.

A stapler was the last needed piece of equipment to end this experiment. Fluffy skulls with how weak they were made it so they could have their bones reattached with simple office staples as long as they were sterile beforehand. It certainly would have been unfortunate if she managed to give herself a good hit to the brain and give herself the brain damage he so thoroughly tried to avoid.

“Buh-buh Mawshmawwow nu wan wive fowevah! Wan go sketty wand and see babbehs and speshew fwiend!” Marshmallow tried to explain but Robert simply did not care.

“Oh, I know you want to die Marshmallow,” Robert said, jotting down his success on his notepad while Marshmallow hu-hued in the background. He had many experiments to try, to see how her brain was compatible with her new body. The next test was to check the viability of breeding, if she was still fertile then an egg transplant meant that breeders would find heavy use in prime studs and bitches.

“But that’s my choice now Marshmallow, not yours,” Robert said, leaving the room to think about how much further he could take his experiment.


Fluffy brain ( such as they are ) transplants seem likely enough, & open up for a variety of new forms of Abuse.
For those willing to bother doing so, that is.

good story, bleak as hell just how i like em.

you might want to do a bit more proofreading though. theres some errors in the first bit that make it a little hard to follow, misgendering the smarty and calling marshmallow sprinkles.

To add to Maple’s post there are some confusing switches from Second to Third person you might want to take a look at. All in all pretty good though