Fluff-buse thread

Fluff-buse thread

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Yall niggas need some serious help

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OC PLZ RESPOND

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Still dumpin

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Moar

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I haven't posted in a bit. I'll see what i can do... assuming the captcha cooperates with me. That'll be a nice surprise.

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>not using 4chanx
>not using recaptcha v2

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Sup Forums is already bookmarked on my browser and I am a lazy fuck.

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How does bookmarks have anything to do with it?

Stop guessing lakes from oceans and go back to typing 3-6 numbers

what kind of file name is this

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what the fuck is this?

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wtf is wrong with you sithlords?

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We can't handle the rekt threads.

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OC

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Sorry for slow posting speed. Writing story.

anyone know the artist

fluff hoarders..this needs more exploration

>the worst pain a fluffy can suffer is actual adult life

this shit is getting philosophical now

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i think goblinfluff

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nice bruh

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I don't think there will be any. Afaik community of creators is smaller and smaller and people tend to stick to old formulas.

I mean, most of this images are reposts fromt imes when fluffy abuse was new. Also, imo, most of the best stuff is old. The only really good thing I found out yesterday is that new game that might actually be finished.

These aren't funny, retards

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thank, i like the art lol

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Nah, its pretty funny. Fluffy abuse was created to fuck with bronies, and now this is fucking with fluffy abusers. Its like meta-autism. Autception.

Just stop

lol

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I think having it back on Sup Forums gives a higher chance for new artists (and autists), hopefully new content will follow.

Edgy autism the thread.

Story incoming. As always, I post here before it even touches the booru.

Hopefully.

Also, do you want me to look for that fluffy abuse game? Not pet shop but brand new stuff.

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And here it debuts.

Nessun Dorma
By Ungius

>The dinner rush was coming, so Chef Maurizio went out back to check the traps.
>The backdoor of the old brick building led onto a back alley behind the restaurant, which led straight to Hanover street: spaghetti heaven.
>And sitting in the alley were a few lobster traps, full of their daily catch, the rigatoni-chum having been devoured.
>“Well-a buongiorno, little guys! I-a see you like-a the rigatoni!” Chef Maurizio said with a wicked, moustachioed grin.
>“Dummeh huuman nu gif enough sgettis!” Said a chubby red fluffy. “Gif mowe sgettis, ow smawty gif wowstest huwties!”
>The fluffy puffed up his jowls.
>His sweet, tender, jowls.

its called fluffy sim, and its on the fist 2 pages of the booru

>Chef Maurizio hauled in the traps and got straight to work.
>First step, after all the fluffies were shaved, cleaned, and promised their daily spaghetti, was always to separate the foals from the adults, and to do so in a way that made sure everything was visible.
>See in most animals, a quick and painless butchery guarantees the meat is tender and succulent. Otherwise, the animal tenses up and might become bitter.
>Fluffies, however, are the exception.
>Fluffy meat is too sweet, too tender, too fatty. It needs the extra richness of fear and adrenaline. Once you scare the shit out of a fluffy, it becomes as delicious as veal.
>Which is why the foals must always be first, and the “mummehs and daddehs” must always watch.

>“Whewe yu take babbehs, sketti man?” cried a foal “you give us sgettis?”
>“Don’t-a worry, little bambino, where you’re-a going, you’re-a gonna get so much-a the spaghetti!”
>He wasn’t lying. Linguini alla Puledro was a special tonight.
>The foals were all lined up, biggest to smallest, and placed on their back.
>“Weggies nu wowk!” cried the foals, unable to flip rightside up like a defenseless turtle.
>Chef Maurizio hummed a bit and sang a bit more as he sharpened the knife.
>“Eh, Cumpari! Ci va suonari…”
>The knife tip touched just below the neck.
>”Chi si suona, un friscalettu...”
>The knife went in a half inch.
>”E come si suona, un friscalettu”
>He pulled the knife back as the “friscalettu” played its tune.
>Every fluffy in the kitchen started chirping, screaming, yelling. If they weren’t all starving and empty, they would be shitting themselves.
>The knife was razor sharp and cut the foals soft skin like butter.
>“OWOWOWOWOWOWOW! WOWSTEST HUWTIES! FWUFY TUMMY STINGING! WAN MUMMEH!”
>As it wriggled and twitched, still living, the viscera and the organs started flopping about, doing half of Chef Maurizio’s job for him.
>A clean line cut, Chef Maurizio splayed the fluffy out.
>The foal’s bones had yet to set, still mostly cartilage. They flopped and popped out of their places.
>The rib cage misplaced the heart and lungs and the foals breaths became labored.
>Then Chef Maurizio just yanked the offal out.

Life of poopsmear

Part 1

>And so this repeated and repeated until every foal, biggest to smallest, was left a filet.
>The bigger fillets would be seasoned and served in a marsala sauce.
>The smallest would be piled on top of each other like a pile of hides and rolled into rollatini.
>All this while the fluffies marinated in their own fear.
>“Why huwt babbehs! Babbehs good babbehs! Huhuhuhu!”
>Now came Chef Maurizio’s favorite part.
>He grabbed one of the fluffy heads and tangled it in front of the pen of fluffies. He twisted his mustache with his other hand and said in a dastardly voice.
>“And which one of you little strunze is gonna stop me?”
>The smarty from earlier pretty much volunteered. They always do.
>“Smawty save hewd! Dummeh munsta huuman wet hewd go!”
>The smarty got lifted by the tail unto the still bloody table.

>Any hack with a hacksaw can amputate a fluffies hooves, but only a skilled artist can get the whole haunch off.
>A hand kept the smarty down. “Huumin wet smawty go! Smawty not finished yet!”
>Chef Maurizio readied the knife.
>“Hey wise guy!” He grinned. “Vafunculo!”
>The blade sawed back.
>“OWOWOW! WEGGIES HUWTIES!”
>And sawed forth.
>“SMAWTY SOWWY DUMMEH HUUMIN! SMAWTY WEAVE THE WAY HE CAME! SMAWTY GO WITH HEWD!”
>Sawed back.
>“OTAY KEEP THE HWED, JUST LET SMAWTY GO!”
>And forth.
>And repeat, three more times, until the fluffy legs are all cut off.

Fuck off, they are gold.

Part 2

>By now the smarty was broken and the heard realized its leader had sold them downriver to sive its hide.
>There were only tears now. A huhuing chorus enveloped the kitchen.
>Chef Maurizio still knew the smarty had a little fight left in him.
>“Hey finocio, you want to save-a your life?” He said, leaning into the smarty’s face.
>“Get angry.”
>The smarty looked up. “Wa?”
>“Get angry! Prove-a to me that-a you want-a to live. Get angry!”
>A new spirit leapt into the smarty.
>He breathed in…
>Puffed his cheeks…
>And then…
>Chef Maurizio smalled his head down, his jowls still puffed.
>His sweet, tender, jowls.
>The knife came down quick.
>Can’t make amatriciana without jowls, can you?
>The smarty cried his last cry and whimpered, barely audible through the gurgles of blood.
>“Wan die.”
>Chef Maurizio would oblige. In time

>And so continued the proprocess.
>The knife sawed, the knife chopped.
>The knife gutted and filleted.
>The bones popped and snapped and readied for stock.
>Intestines ripped out for sausages.
>The skull cracked and the brain spooned out.
>And somewhere along the way, usually after the deboning but before the debraining, the fluffy expires.
>Some, though, make it to that last step.
>They get to feel as the chisel goes under the ear and severs the skull.
>They can’t scream, of course; the tongue goes out first, a perfect appetizer.
>They just cry as the light leaves their eyes.

Part 3

>And so the deed had been done, the herd butchered, and still with time to prep them for dinners to come.
>The house would be packed, the restaurant the talk of the town.
>Chef Maurizio clapped his hands and smiled.
>He began to sing a bit.
>“Nessun dorma, nessun dorma…”

And that's the end. As always, posted here before the booru. Please feel free to give criticism, as it still has time to be changed before it goes up there later tonight.

Part 4

anyone reading ?

really? I found it on backupchan

Forgot the picture

yeah, post it ya fag

yes. please continue!