Karn here. Just wanted to thank @Krieg for a bit of inspiration. He had a request and it gave me an idea. Thanks dude, and hope you enjoy. 
There were many things that Seth enjoyed when it came to owning fluffies, but nothing could ever beat the feeling he had when one was clearly terrified of him, but couldn’t get away. Staring towards Frostbite, the small pillowfoal peeping rapidly as he wriggled against his shoebox bed, he savored the red fluff’s obvious fear of him. It had been only a week ago that, whether due to boredom or ennui, Seth had taken the previous foal in a can and filled it’s enclosure with ice, for little other reason than to see how long he could survive.
Shockingly, the red foal had lived, but the extreme cold had claimed his hooves, with Seth cruelly pillowing him and dubbing him Frostbite on the spot, wanting a backup in case he lost Starburst. Of course with the pillowed mare, Seth had bought her when she was older, having already been raised by someone else for nearly the first year of her life. Similar to Frostbite, the mare had lost her legs when she was very young, possibly before her eyes had even opened. During the pillowfluff craze that had happened shortly before Seth had bought Ash, countless fluffymills had started doing bandsaw pillowings on masse, with people adoring the idea of a pet that not only loved you, but fully depended on you, not to mention preventing the fragile creatures from huring themselves. To a pillowfluff, you would be their entire life, and where a normal fluffy would become panicked or frightened at your absence, a pillowfluff would become outright inconsolable, with the legless fluffs going through an extreme combination of sorrow and solace at their owner’s eventual return.
Like all fads, it had ended nearly as fast as it had began, with people quickly becoming exhausted with their pillowfluffs. The fact was that taking a fluffy’s legs would emotionally cripple them, no matter the age, with depression and manic behavior being all too common. Fluffies feel everything in excess, and pillows seemed to be even needier than their intact counterparts, constantly calling out for attention and love, being unable to do little else. And the part of the community that actually cared for them became disturbed at the exceptionally high rate of pillowfluffs that went wan die, with many falling into the loop within two years, regardless of care.
And so many mills stopped pillowing altogether, with the foals and adults unfortunate enough to have been amputated on the cusp of the trend being culled and processed into other financial avenues, such as stuffed animals from their fluff or low grade fluffy food from their remains. Seth had purchased Starburst only weeks before, unaware of any of this at the time, simply seeking a companion for Ash and feeling sympathy for the legless mare. Seth often pondered on how close the pillowmare had come to being culled herself, unsure if he considered her lucky for surviving, or cursed for finding her way into his home.
Which brought Seth to his latest project, Frostbite. Unlike Starburst, the foal hadn’t just lost his legs, but had been tortured, and at length beforehand. While his lost mare had been sullen but kind before he began to break her, the newer pillowfoal was already horrified of Seth, knowing his scent, his voice, as the one responsible for his suffering. It was still unclear whether Frostbite remembered having legs, but that hardly mattered. To a fluffy, their legs allowed the passionate biotoys to show affection, give hugs, let them run and play. Even something as rudimentary as a foal’s first good poopies, it all required their hooves, and as such, fluffies reacted to the loss of their limbs with nightmarish aversion, even when compared to people.
Leaning over the workbench, Seth gently ran a finger up and down Frostbite’s back, the foal peeping wildly as he recoiled from Seth’s very touch. “That’s not very nice Frostbite…Daddy is so happy to see you and you try and get away…not that you ever could…” While the foal had spoken shortly after opening his eyes, as many chirpies did, he was exceptionally taciturn. Begging for his mother and questioning why he didn’t have legs, he had been mostly chirps and peeps afterwards, with the occasional word here and there when Seth pushed him enough.
Taking out his phone, Seth rapped his fingers over the display a few times, bringing up footage of his saferoom fluffies running and playing, placing the phone directly in front of Frostbite. His peeping slowing to a despondent warble, the pillowfluff wiggled and flailed as best he could manage, trying to face away as tears fell down his cheeks.
Just as Seth had tied the die to Kismet’s feedings, he had done the same with Frostbite, always showing the pillowfoal footage of his happier and luckier foals while he prepared the foal’s food. Leaving Frostbite to enjoy the show, Seth made his way to the fridge, taking a bottle of cream colored formula, and walking back over to the workbench. Ignoring the pillowfluff for the moment, he then placed it in a warmer that he kept on the opposite side of his station, flicking it on and waiting for Frostbite’s meal to warm.
Unlike the cheap powder he kept for most foals, this was a bit pricier, as it was far more nutritious compared to the calorically dense but nutrient deficit formula. Seth didn’t mind, as he would eventually wean Frostbite onto the kibble he fed the saferoom fluffies, and besides, he wanted to keep him around for a long time.
A small chiming sound from the warmer pulled Seth from his thoughts, reminding him that the pillowfluff’s dinner was properly heated. Placing the bottle into a stand that he’d built into the pillowfulff’s bed, Seth once again calmly stroked the whimpering foal, his dread at his owner’s touch apparent as his mewling was quickly replaced with loud and rapid cheeps. “Here you go little guy…Come on, I know you have to be hungry…” Frostbite peered around anxiously, the foal always uncomfortable and on edge when he had his owner’s attention. While the only other fluffies he had ever seen were on the cruel toy that Seth made him watch, there was something in the back of his mind, something that told him that if her were in danger, to find other fluffies. Sadly, he was once again disappointed as he scanned what little bit of the hobby-room he could see from his small forever bed, eventually sobbing as he closed his eyes and latched onto the bottle.
“There we go! That’s very good Frostbite…I know that you don’t like daddy very much…and that’s okay. Daddy didn’t even want you at first, that’s why he gave you the cold hurties that nearly made you go forever sleepies…” Nursing frantically from the bottle, it pleased Seth that at the mention of Frostbite’s near death a week prior, the foal began to tremble. His feeding unabated, it was a sight to behold, the foal crying as he shook, suckling from the rubber nipple as his shoulder lumps gyrated in a phantom attempt to knead. “…But even when daddy thought you were gone forever…you somehow survived! And so daddy decided to take care of you…even if you’re ungrateful…Daddy does it all for you…because I love you Frostbite…”
His bottle empty, the shivering pillowfluff was clearly too frightened to meet Seth’s gaze, simply chirping and peeping as he tried in vain to wiggle himself deeper into his bed.
“*chirp…*chirp…mu’mah! …*chirp…*chirp…ba’beh wan mu’mah! …*chirp…*chirp…”
Pleased that his subtle mindgames had pushed the foal to speak, Seth took his phone from his pocket, loading the numerous videos he had taken of his legged fluffies in the saferoom. “That’s very mean Frostbite…You hurt daddy’s feelings. I guess someone wants to watch more runny fluffies!” Laughing to himself as he set his phone back up, Seth thought of Jerome, who he had left waiting. He’ll be fine, thought Seth. What kind of trouble could he even get into?"
As Seth closed the door behind him, Jerome was ecstatic. Here he was, finally, in Seth’s actual house. He had been bothering Seth to see his fluffies for nearly two years now, and now he could see how an old pro took care of their biotoys. Standing in the hallway, unable to hold still, Jerome smiled as he awaited Seth’s return.
After nearly ten minutes, Jerome’s enthusiasm had dwindled vastly, the impatient teen pulling out his phone and watching as time crawled by at a snail’s pace. “Jesus, Seth…how long are you gonna take?” As ten minutes became twenty, and then a half hour, the boy grew frustrated. Tempted to knock on the hobby-room door, Jerome hesitated, fearful that disturbing him might upset him. His thoughts drifting to Seth’s earlier torture of Kismet, the boy’s gaze drifted to the kitchen, and the drawer that housed the blue foal. “It couldn’t hurt…and besides, Seth’ll never even know…”
Placing the carrier on the hallway floor, Jerome made his way back to the kitchen. Giggling from excitement, he glanced one last time towards the hobby-room door, double checking that Seth was still preoccupied. Opening the drawer, he was instantly met with sad and despondent peeps, as Kismet sat on his cushion, his nubs waving in the air.
“*chirp… … …*chirp… … …pwe’ da’deh…ba’beh nee…*chirp…*chirp…*chirp…nu am da’deh…nyu fwen? …*chirp…*chirp…*chirp…”
Not answering, Jerome lunged towards the foal, grabbing him as he shrieked in a blind panic. Flailing in the teenager’s hand, Kismet tried in vain to free himself from his hand.
“*screeeeeee!!! nuuuuuuu!!! *chirp…*chirp…da’deh!!! …*chirp…*chirp…sab’ kiz’mit!!!”
Feeling something warm dripping down his palm, Jerome looked down, loosening his grip slightly. Nearly snarling, the boy let the foal fall into the sink shaking his hand as he realized the frightened fluff had voided his bowels. “You disgusting little shit!” Running the tap, Kismet screamed as the water fell beside him, unable to rise off of his back due to the awkward fall.
“wawa?! nuuuuuu!!! *chirp…*chirp…wawa ba’!!! wawa ba’!!!..*chirp…*chirp…nu huw’te ba’be!!! …*chirp…*chirp…”
Taking a great deal of pleasure in watching the foal’s nubs flail frantically, Jerome ran his hands under the water, using a dollop of soap and scrubbed his hands vigorously. “Well that’ll fuckin’ teach you!” Drying his now waste free hands, Jerome turned the water off, still exceptionally angry with the foal. First Seth had canceled on him, with absolutely no explanation, and then what should have been some easy fun with the mare he’d taken had backfired horribly, the teen gritting his teeth slightly as he remembered how she had dared to talk to him, unfrightened and insolent, like the unicorn didn’t know her damn place.
And now this little fucker had the audacity to literally shit on him, after the past few days had felt much the same, albeit metaphorically. His temper getting the best of him, Jerome leaned down, grabbing the foal’s cheek and began to squeeze it firmly, pinching it between his forefingers as Kismet shook his head, screaming.
“*screeeeeee!!! nu am fwen!!! *chirp…*chirp… am huw’te munsta!!! *chirp…*chirp…*screeeeeee!!!”
“That’s right you little fucker! You know to be scared! That’s good, because you know your place!” Ecstatic as the foal released scream after pained scream, Jerome wanted more. Letting go of Kismet’s face for the moment, the teen opened the cabinets underneath the sink, wanting something to use on the foal. Finding mostly cleaning solutions and the like, Jerome grabbed a small bottle of bleach, placing it on the counter. Unscrewing the cap, he then let a small bit of the acrid fluid fall into it. “I remember Seth saying that you fuckers have really sensitive noses when you’re young…So what do you think of this, Kismet?” Taking the cap, Jerome forced it near the foal’s face, careful not to let it drip or splash. The effect was immediate as Kismet’s eyes widened, his head jerking away desperately as his nubs struggled to reach the cap and push it away.
“smeww ba’!!! …*chirp…*chirp…buw’ne smeww pwa!!! …*chirp…*chirp…da’deh!!! hewp kiz’mit!!! …*chirp…*chirp…”
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing kid?!” Startled from his entertainment by Seth’s sudden and alarming voice, Jerome struggled to grab the cap, dropping it in the sink. In his attempt to catch it, the panicked teen hit the open bottle with his shoulder, toppling it over as it’s contents drained into the sink below. “Shit!!!”
"*screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"
Peering over the sink, as Seth strode over to join him, Jerome gasped as he saw that nearly the entire bottle of bleach had poured onto Kismet, the foal sputtering as he tried in vain to breath, his eyes clutched firmly shut. Unable to scream, the foal’s mouth would open, rasping air as his tiny nubs grasped at his throat. “Goddamn it…Move kid!!!” Turning the water on, Seth nudged Jerome aside, trying to assess the damage to the foal before holding him by his scruff under the tap, worried at how little he reacted to the falling water.
“Seth…I am so sor…”
“Not now…” Keeping his eyes on the foal, Seth saw that as the bleach was slowly drained away by the water, Kismet tried to breath again, the powerful fumes nearly suffocating him before. Coughing and sputtering, the foal began to chirp and scream, his nubs flailing as the water fell down his body.
“*screeeeeee!!! buw’ne huw’tees!!! buw’ne huw’tees!!! …*chirp…*chirp…”
“I know little guy, I know…Just hang on…” Once the water had rinsed off as much of the bleach as possible, Seth placed Kismet back on his cushion, the foal still chirping and shrieking as he waddled to the corner of the drawer, trying to flee Jerome. His dark blue fluff now lightened, Seth could already see the chemical burns underneath.
“It was an accident…You were taking so long and…”
“Right now, I need you to be quiet…” Seth’s tone was soft, but hid a great deal of malice, prompting Jerome to gulp before going silent, unsure of what Seth was going to do once he was finished with the foal.
Scouring the junk drawer, Seth searched the varied contents until he found an old blister pack of allergy meds. Not exceptionally strong, he decided that they’d have to do, hoping that it wouldn’t be too much for the tiny foal. Taking a single tablet from the pack, Seth crushed it up against the counter with a small spoon, letting most of the pinkish powder fall into the sink. Retrieving Kismet’s bottle, he then made a small portion of formula, just above one notch full, mixing the powder within before shaking the bottle. Grasping the shrieking foal by his scruff, the tiny fluff kicked and flailed wildly in the air until Seth let a few droplets of the drugged milk out of the bottle, with Kismet quickly sucking on the rubber nipple until the contents within were drained.
It took effect right away, with the foal’s head lulling for a few moments before he went limp in Seth’s hands. Cradling Kismet slightly, he then turned to Jerome. “I don’t trust you to stay put so follow me…We’ll see what the damage is…” His head hung low, Jerome almost retorted, before thinking better of it and simply nodded quietly. Foal in hand, Seth made his way to the guest bathroom, with the sullen teen following behind.
