“You killed those babbehs! That means you’re a BAD fluffy! What do bad fluffies get?”
“NU WAN!”
“WHAT. DO. BAD. FLUFFIES. GET?”
“Bad fwuffies git…nu! Nu wan gu forebah-sweepies!”
“Too bad!”
Despite fighting with all her might, the yellow unicorn couldn’t withstand the inexorable pressure as her face was pushed closer and closer to the spike on the ground. With a sudden loud “CRACK!” sound, her front left leg broke, and she slammed onto the spike. One of her eyes was impaled on the spike and pulled free from the socket as she struggled in vain to pull herself free.
"SCREEEEEEEEE!
…
The show ended as the unicorn mare gave her last ragged gasp and succumbed to her wound. The feed was replaced with the streamer’s logo, a caricature of Bob Ross with the paint on the canvas replaced with blood and the paints he was mixing replaced with crushed foals of varying colors. The banner at the bottom read “The Artiste of Abuse.”
Robert Boss, or “Rob Boss” as his friends always jokingly called him, examined his latest souvenir. Like many abusers, he liked to keep mementos of the fluffies he was finished with. In this case, it meant photos of the exact moment the fluffy realized it was all over, since more…grisly souvenirs tended to smell unless you kept them frozen. He still have a photo of the first fluffy he abused, a blue foal, framed by his bed so he’d see it every morning; he still never managed to recapture the magic of that moment.
He reached into the water-filled tank and pulled out the faux-foals. He preferred to give fluffies personal, individual attention, and would never waste real foals just to break a fluffy mummah. He’d take care of them one at a time later, when they were big enough to survive more than a few minutes of fun.
The workbench was dripping with blood, but Rob didn’t mind. He was used to cleaning up messes, and the money this job was making him was more than worth it. Ever since fluffies gained animal rights, it had gotten harder and harder for abusers to get their fix, and Rob was there to cater to them. Sometimes, living in a backwater hellhole of a town had its perks.
After drying the faux-foals and placing them in his huge bucket of the things, he turned to go upstairs and grab his cleaning supplies; he was too professional to keep them in his filming area and risk having them ruin the shot. Unnoticed by him, a foal that had escaped the saferoom somehow had made its way down the basement stairs. Unnoticed, that is, until he stepped on it, eliciting a short “GURK!” and a sickening crunch. He would have laughed if the slippery internal organs hadn’t caused him to fall backwards, slamming his head onto the concrete floor.
…
He awoke in utter darkness, which was surprising since the basement was quite well lit. He tried to stand, but realized he couldn’t move at all. He knew that no help would come even if he cried for help, but he tried nevertheless. However, his voice didn’t work either.
He was approached by…something. Many people are aware of the concept of cosmic horror, of something that can shatter your mind by merely being seen. This was something like the opposite, and abstract form lit by an inner radiance that was incomprehensibly soothing. Rob realized that all his life he’d been living an utter nightmare, that only now was he realizing what peace truly was.
Are you an angel? he tried to ask.
“One might say that. I am one who guides those whose time has ended,” the entity responded to his thoughts.
Am I dead?
“As dead as anything can be. Your understanding of the universe was…limited.”
I didn’t think there was an afterlife.
“Many people don’t.”
Are you going to judge me?
“That is not my place. I merely help those who must move on become ready for judgement.”
A tiny spark of dread suddenly glimmered in Rob’s mind.
Will I be judged for killing fluffies? They’re not real creatures, they don’t have souls.
“Souls? A soul is not such a simple thing that you could ever find one. A soul is a rare thing, a precious thing. Souls are hard to come by, so many must share. Do you have a soul of your own? Can you say that you are so special?”
Is there some way I can be forgiven?
“Do you know what you ask? Of course you don’t, you can’t begin to. But if you wish to seek forgiveness, seek redemption, I can offer you a path to understanding.”
Please!
“Very well.”
Suddenly the entity vanished, and Rob was in darkness once more. Slowly, the darkness seemed to lift, until abruptly he was bathed in brilliant light. His eyes should have burned, should have struggled to cope, but he saw with perfect clarity.
In front of him was a mirror. As he looked into it, a realization turned his blood to ice. A shriek of horror erupted from him, his voice suddenly functioning again. As his consciousness faded, he continued to scream.
He recognized the face in the mirror. After all, how could he not when he saw it every morning next to his bed?
“NUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”
Part Two
24 Likes
This reminds me of a story Oculus started! Looking forward to it!
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The biggest difference in the narrative between the two is the reverse-time-skip factor, where Rob’s sent back into the past as his own victim, rather than just being a fluffy in general. Unfortunately there’s no reincarnation (pre-incarnation?) tag.
6 Likes
Damn! That’s karma alright 
4 Likes
Exciting. And considering he is jumping back to when the foal was alive it should end with the human him killing the foal him. That face of ‘the moment it was all over’ will be his own. Can’t wait to see what happens next.
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