boom experiment resistance safe sketties temptation test willpower

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Meredith placed the tranquilized fluffies into the pen. Once they had all awoken, the test would initiate. It was an T shaped pen, with the longer part running north to south, and the short part east to west. The top of the entire pen transparent so as to allow the cameras to record the experiment. Every few feet or so on there were glass partitions that could be raised mechanically from the control room. The space between each patrician, or cell, was enough to house one fluffy comfortably. Not enough room to run about, but enough to walk and turn around. The partitions themselves were made of glass as well, so as to allow each fluffy to see the cells ahead and behind of them. The northernmost partition led to a larger cell, the east-west part of the T shape. it had a hole at one side, and was dubbed “the feeding room”. The pen was made so that the fluffy in the northernmost cell could clearly see into the feeding room. One fluffy would be placed into each cell, one in the feeding room, and then the partitions would be lowered before the subjects could awake.

Wilbur awoke from a strange sleep. He had just had the best sleep he had ever experienced. It had come on suddenly, and was so very deep. When he awoke, however, he felt fully awake, without any drowsiness or grogginess. He was not frightened, but he was confused. He was no longer in his normal pen. This place was strange, it wasn’t as big his normal pen. He called out to the nice humans that fed and cleaned him, but they did not answer. This was not unusual, as the humans never spoke to the fluffies. It was then that he noticed there was a purple mare in front of him. She was behind some kind of see-through wall. He pawed at the wall playfully, and was about to call out to her before he heard a strange sound. Wilbur had never heard static before, but then he heard something he did recognize, a person-voice. “Please go to the feeding stick for nummies!”. Wilbur looked around excitedly. He hadn’t noticed until the voice had mentioned nummies, but he was incredibly hungry. He turned around and around, scouring the small cell for a stick with nummies as the voice had described. But there was nothing, no stick, no nummies, nothing. He was so hungry, and was about to cry when he heard an enormous, thundering BANG. He leaped into the air in fright and came crashing down. He heard whimpers and even a shriek up ahead. He saw the purple mare ahead of him. She too was startled, but didn’t seem to know what had happened either. She looked around her cell, looking for potential monsters and crying out for hugs, all to no avail. Then another sound, this one of glass sliding against plastic. Wilbur saw the mare move forward, then the glass between he and her lifted. “Please move forward for nummies”. Wilbur did as the voice commanded, forgetting all about the scary noise at the mention of food. He wanted to stand next to the mare and ask her questions, but before he could reach her the glass wall came down in front of him, blocking his path. For a moment he just stared blankly, confused. Wilbur, let alone any fluffy, had never been in such an odd situation of moving invisible walls, loud noises, and disembodied voiced. His brain was simply overloaded, and he stared blankly ahead trying to make reason of the situation. Then it all happened again, the voice talking about a nummie stick, a loud bang, and a commotion from the other fluffies. This time the purple mare had seen something, but clearly wished she hadn’t. She was covering her eyes with her pitiful hooves and weeping pathetically. Now Wilbur was beginning to become consciously aware of his fear. He was deeply afraid, and he knew something wasn’t right. The voice told him to move forward for nummies, and as the wall lifted, he hesitated. He wanted to be smart, and not to be tricked into anything scary, but he was so hungry. It wasn’t long before his stomach won the argument with his brain, and he followed the mare ahead of him. Again, the glass came down in front of him. He tried tapping on the glass to get the mare’s attention, but it was no use. She just kept looking ahead. She watched a brown fluffy ahead of her through tears and whimpers. She was so terrified that she leaned against the wall to her left, as if it would protect her, but she did not break her gaze. Her position allowed Wilbur to watch the brown fluffy as well. He was in a slightly larger cell, widely turning this way and that, as if looking for an invisible pursuer. “please go to the feeding stick for nummies!”. A long gray stick extended from a wall. The purple mare pleaded with the brown fluffy not to take the nummies. As she whimpered and cried, the brown fluffy leaned heavily against the wall opposite the stick. He was saying something about stompies and owwies, something to do with bad nummies. Wilbur couldn’t hear most of what he was saying, but the fluffy was clearing in a state of panic. Again, the voice commanded, and the brown fluffy, now crying, asked the voice something. Wilbur heard the voice say “yes, of course!”, and the brown fluffy approached the tube. After a moment of contemplation, the brown fluffy opened his mouth and brought it close to the tube. With the same tremendous noise like before, the tube jerked back as the brown fluffy exploded. Vaporized blood and chunks of flesh flew back as damp brown fluff and bone fragments scattered into the air. The glass in front of the purple mare was covered in the same red liquid Wilbur had come to associate with pain. Wilbur Screamed louder than he had ever before. He could feel his vocal cords straining, his hooves scrambled across the floor, and his fluff sticking out on end. His terror forced adrenaline into his little veins, burning his insides. He was still screaming when the floor below the remains of the brown fluffy lowered, and when it came back up a moment later no sign of the dead creature remained apart from a few wet brown hairs and a short smear of blood. The purple mare stubbled into the feeding room, and the grey stick extended once more. Even before the voice spoke, she pleaded and begged. She tried to make the voice aware of who she was. She went through her credentials, stating that she was indeed a good fluffy, that she had always used the litterbox appropriately, and that she was indeed a living being. She rambled over the voices command. Her pleas soon turned into bawling, and from bawling to weak whimpers. The voice commanded a second time, but she did not answer. She instead buried her fat head in her hooves, not raising it even when the voice commanded a third time. But then the voice said something new; “Are you sure you don’t want nummies?”. The mare kept whimpering, shaking her head in her hooves. As she soiled herself, she began apologizing to whomever might be listening. “You’re not hungry? not even for … Sketties?”. Wilbur sat upright. He suddenly stopped shaking. His mouth watered. In all his short life he had never heard anyone say that sacred word, but he knew what it was, and he knew what it meant. It was a magical word that transcended language itself, a word that denoted what all fluffies knew to love without ever learning of it. The word had a similar effect of the purple mare as well. Her cries softened, and she looked at the gray stick from between her hooves. Raising her head slightly, she asked for a promise of honestly from the voice, prodding the voice with questions of tricks and trust. When asked if there really were sketties, it replied “Yes, of course!”. The mare approached cautiously. She looked deep into the hollow tube, searching for hints of dishonesty, as if it were an eye. But simply remained there, unflinching. Wilbur saw tears welling up in her eyes, but she did not weep. She drew closer, and as she opened her mouth, she closed her eyes, forcing out a tear. As the tear escaped her eye and began running down her fat cheek, her brain leap wildly from the back of her head. One of her eyes shot from her skull, smacking hard against the glass Wilbur was watching from with a dull reverberating thud. A few of her teeth escaped the top of her neck as her body flew spinning into the back wall. As Wilbur cried, the floor began to lower. He wanted to try and peak over the edge and see what was below, but even if the glass partition wasn’t blocking him, he was too occupied vomiting. His brain seemed to slam against his little skull as his stomach released what little in had in its contents. His eyes burned almost as much as his throat. He didn’t even feel his bowels moving. When he was done, Wilbur looked up, strands of sick dangling from his lip, head still pounding. He saw the floor raise again, still quite messy, but no longer covered in any solid remains. The partition raised. Wilbur did not advance, nor did he try to escape. It did not matter, as the steel tube was still in eyesight. A moment passed, and unsure what to do, he repositioned himself in front of the tube, his eyes downcast as he moved. His rear plopped heavily as he sat in front of the gray stick as the glass wall lowered behind him. At this point he was gasping for breath between tears. He sat there pathetically in his own filth, his little orange chest heaving with the effort in breathing. His eyes were tightly shut, but this did not prevent the tears escaping. The voiced asked him to approach for nummies, but he did not respond. The second time it asked, he tried to say something, but it merely came out as a quiet “N…n..Nn-!n-!n-!”. The third time it asked, Wilbur was able to formulate the full word he had been searching for “Nu!”. There was a pause. One cannot say for certain, but perhaps Wilbur knew what the next question would be. “You’re not hungry? Not even for…Sketties?”. With all of his might, Wilbur kept his eyes shut. He clenched his teeth. His hooves shook, clacking against each other. He though hard, perhaps as hard as any fluffy had ever thought. Was this really a trick? Should he risk it? What did sketties taste like? Would he still get the loud stompies even if he had just a little taste? Did stompies taste like sketties? Then something happened that no one could have expected. “Nu”, he repeated. Wilbur refused sketties. He waited for what he knew must come next, but it didn’t come. For a moment there was silence, then there came a soft sound of metal sliding against metal. Wilbur opened his eyes to see the gray stick retracting into the wall. Once it had gone, he caught a brief sight of a human hand on the other side disappear as it moved a cover over the hole.

Peter Nguyen watched the screen. The fluffy just sat there crying. This was the third time a fluffy had survived. Out of eleven tests thus far, only three fluffies had refused sketties in exchange for their lives. Pete typed in the results on his second computer screen. He then pressed a button and leaned into the microphone. “That’s a wrap” he said, “good job Meredith”. On a third screen he saw his college give the thumbs up. As she walked off screen, the door to the control room opened. Meredith walked in. “Well, that’s another one,” she sighed, clicking on the safety on the shotgun before locking it back up in the safe. “As stupid as this experiment is, I gotta admit, it is a lot of fun”. “yeah” replied Pete “I can’t wait till it’s my turn to blast those stupid fucking things.” He paused, watching his college spin the dial on the gun safe. “so,” he added, meekly, “wanna grab some lunch?”
Uploader HerdKing,
Tags boom experiment resistance sketties temptation test willpower
Rating safe
Source Unknown
Locked No

Comments


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HerdKing: I always like the idea of a fluffy being shot in the face with a shotgun thinking it was going to get food. I haven't seen it done so far. I was initially just gonna have some guy with a gullible fluffy, but that would have been better as an image and didn't translate well to text. this works better i think, but i just hope its easy to follow. people often say my descriptive style is clunky hard to follow.
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Anonymous1: Oh balls Wtf i thought you'd left us bro

- Reply
HerdKing: @Anonymous: see comments on my last post

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WetFluff: .
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Anonymous2: @HerdKing: ah i missed that bit. Well congrats on graduation

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HerdKing: @Anonymous: thx
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LORD: @HerdKing: its good to see you post again, hope you feel better

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Wangew_Wick: @HerdKing: How do you format your stories, HK? That's one big freaking wall of text.

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ArthurCameron: Interesting concept, good execution, though I'd really appreciate some line breaks next time.

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HerdKing: @Wangew_Wick: i just use notepad. if i ever post another one ill b sure to break it up more