Souls Are Hard To Come By Pt. 3 [By MuffinMantis]

Part Two

[To help keep this series coherent, there are some rules I’m going to try to follow.

A. Reincarnation doesn’t necessarily work in chronological order.

B. Rob cannot remember past/future lives while alive, but can while in Limbo.

C. Rob doesn’t keep/abuse more than 1 fluffy at a time (see part 1)

D. Fluffies will be given backstory to help develop them as characters/give their fate more meaning.]

Rob watched Sky sleep, pondering what exactly he was going to do to the foal. Sky had fallen asleep as soon as he’d finished drinking the formula, so he was probably exhausted as well as starving. Rob could still hear faint growling noises from the foal’s stomach, since he’d been hesitant to risk overfeeding the foal; as few videos of foals overeating until they literally burst had given him reason to be careful.

Rob was interested in keeping a fluffy as a pet, long-term, even if prior to this he hadn’t bothered interacting with them outside of pushing them aside when they got in his way. He’d heard they need a lot of care, but he wasn’t really doing much anyway; the inheritance saw to that. The little foal was cute enough to overcome most of his misgivings.

“Wub mummah! Tank 'ou fow bestest miwkies!” Sky chirped in his sleep, and suddenly Rob was filled with rage and hatred for the creature. How dare the little creature call for her after she’d let him starve! He should have known better. He’d always been told they were ungrateful little shits.

Well, even if he wasn’t going to keep Sky as a pet, he could still use the foal for stress relief. He’d never abused a fluffy before, but he’d seen a lot of videos on the subject, and there was something immensely cathartic about seeing the creatures suffer, especially the smarties. He was going to have to do some research on how to make the critters suffer without dying immediately, though.

Still annoyed at Sky, he wandered into his office to find the best way to enjoy the new foal.


The cry interrupted Rob’s research, and we walked to the make-shift saferoom to find out what the problem was. Sky was shaking in fear on his bed, looking around the room frantically. Great, so he has separation anxiety. Just what I need.

“I’m here, don’t worry.”

“Sky wewe scawed dat daddeh weft wike owd hoomin-mummah!”

“I was just in the other room, Sky.”

“Otay. Daddeh?”


“Can Sky hab mowe miwkies? Sky hab tummeh-huwties 'gain.”

An idea formed in Rob’s head. This could be fun, but the foal probably wouldn’t last too long. Oh well, feral fluffies were a dime a dozen, after all. Barely concealing a grin, he went to the kitchen and mixed some “formula” made of flour, water, some “soulbreaker” ghost pepper hot sauce, and a fair amount of laxative powder. This was going to be hilarious.

“Wai miwkies nu taste pwetty?” Sky asked as soon as the concoction hit his tongue. “SCREEEEEEEEE! SKY HAB MOUF-BUWNIES!” he cried once the sauce began to sear the inside of his mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Rob feigned concern.


“Milkies shouldn’t hurt you, Sky.” Rob said, pretending to be confused. “Milkies only hurt bad babbehs, and you aren’t a bad babbeh, are you? If you are then I can’t let you live here or have good nummies.”

Sky, with a visible effort, stopped screaming and audibly crying, though Rob could still see the tears soaking into his fluff. “Sky nu am bad babbeh! Miwkies am gud!”

“Okay, then. Remember to drink all the milkies so you can grow up big and strong.”

Rob kept a carefully neutral expression on his face, but inside he was giddy. Fluffies were every bit as gullible as he’d be told! He stayed and watched the suffering foal until the entire little bottle of “milk” was consumed.

“I can stay here if you don’t want to be alone, Sky. You must be lonely after losing your family.”

“Nu. Sky am otay. Daddeh can gu nao.” Sky managed to choke out. The sauce was diluted enough that it hadn’t caused any real damage, but it still burned like fire.

“Okay. Good night, Sky.”

Rob retreated to the other room, only to watch the foal on the room’s camera as he desperately dash to his water bottle and guzzled greedily, trying to quench the burning. Rob hadn’t laughed that hard in months, though he had to keep it quiet so Sky wouldn’t hear it. He could hardly believe the best part wasn’t even here yet.


The cry of agony awoke Rob from his sleep, but he didn’t leave his room, instead watching the events unfolding via the camera. Sky was running around the saferoom, defecating uncontrollably and shrieking from the burning pain. Rob’s laughter almost choked him, his mirth only slightly dampened by the knowledge that he’d have to clean up the mess. Still, it was all part of the plan.

After a few minutes of panicked running, Sky collapsed in a puddle of his own waste, his still weakened body unable to handle the activity for long. Rob didn’t move from his room, instead lying back down to try to go back to sleep, although it was hard with the sudden bursts of chuckling when he thought of what had just happened. Eventually, however, he did fall asleep, dreaming pleasant dreams of what the future held.

Sky was exhausted. He couldn’t sleep, the burning pain in his rear end was too severe, and there was nothing he could do to alleviate it. It didn’t make any sense! He was a good babbeh, and milkies didn’t hurt good babbehs! It had to be a bad dream! He’d wake up and there’d be tasty milkies that didn’t burn and this would all be a bad dream.

“Nu smeww pwetty…” he muttered to himself over and over, the reek of the liquid feces making him gag. Soon, he’d wake up soon. He just had to wait. After all, he was a good babbeh.

Sky am gud babbeh! Sky am gub babbeh! Sky am gud babbeh! he thought to himself over and over as the night passed. Eventually, the exhaustion overcame the pain, and he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

SKY!” a furious voice woke him up, and the stench assailed his nose once again. “Why did you make such a mess? What did I tell you about making poopies?”

“Gud poopies am in wittewbox. Bad poopies am nu in wittewbox. Onwy bad fwuffies maek bad poopies.” Sky responded automatically.

“Then why is the entire saferoom covered in shit, Sky?”

“SCREE! Sky nu mean maek bad poopies! Poopie pwace hab wowstest burnie huwties! Pwease, daddeh! Sky nu am bad fwuffy!”

“I see. I’m sorry, Sky. I didn’t know you were sick. I’ll clean this up, then I’ll get you some milkies. You want milkies, right?”

“Fwuffy wan miwkies…”

Sky didn’t notice the sudden smirk that flashed across his daddeh’s face when he heard the lie. He sat there, dreading drinking another bottle of the painful milkies, as his daddeh cleaned up the mess he’d made. He didn’t know why it hurt so much, but he knew he couldn’t be a bad fluffy, could he?

Sky, your fluff is filthy. I let it slide yesterday, but it’s even dirtier now, so you need to have a bath.”

“Nuuuuuuuuu! Wawa am bad fow fwuffies!”

“You don’t want to be a dirty fluffy, do you? Dirty fluffies are bad fluffies!”

“Sky nu wan be diwty bad fwuffy!”

“Then you need a bath. Don’t worry, water won’t hurt good fluffies, only bad fluffies get hurt by water!”

Sky felt a quiet dread as he was carried to the bathroom. He was a good fluffy, so the water wouldn’t hurt him, right? Right? Tears began to suffuse the fluff on his face as uncertainty filled him.

The water in the bath didn’t look scary. It was cleaner than the puddles he was used to drinking, and those had never hurt him. He began to feel more confident was he was lowered towards the water.

The newfound confidence evaporated instantly as soon as his hooves touched the water and a horrible burning pain seared into them. He almost scree’d, but bit his tongue and managed to hold it in. He was a good fluffy, no matter what milkies and water thought! He was GOOD!

Rob struggled to hide the laughter shaking his body as he watched the foal struggle not to scream as he was lowered into the almost-scalding water. Rob had done a lot of researched, and had learned that fluffies experienced pain but no injury if the water was barely tolerable for a human to touch. Sure, this meant that he was in pain too while giving Sky a bath, but it was worth it to hear the little hiccupping, suppressed sobs.

“Daddeh” Sky said after a couple of weeks of this had passed, his voice plaintive. “Pwease daddeh, nu mowe nuwt Sky.”

“Hurt you? What are you talking about?”

“Sky nu nyo wai, Sky am gud fwuffy, bu’ wawa an’ miwkies an’ kibbew huwt Sky!”

“I’m afraid if they’re hurting you then you must be a bad fluffy! I’m going to ask your old human-mummah what you did to make you such a bad fluffy! You lied to me, and I’m very angry!”

“PWEASE! Pwease, daddeh! Sky nu am bad fwuffy!” but the words were lost as Rob dropped the foal into the saferoom and stomped theatrically to the front door, slamming it on the way out. Adopting a normal gait, he went to his neighbor’s house, knocking politely on the door.

“Hello? Oh, hey Rob. What’s up?”

“Hey, Kay. I saw that your fluffy, Lavender I think she was called, wasn’t in the trash area anymore. Did you take her back?”

“Yeah. I needed a milkbag. I found a feral alicorn and I’m going to try breeding him. If you needed something from her I’m afraid it’s too late, she’s already been converted.”

“No, that’s perfect. See, I rescued one of her foals and I’ve been…playing…with him. I was wondering if I could let him see her for a bit as part of the…game. Maybe even give him back as a litter-pal if you could use one.”

“I could always use a litter-pal. Especially if it makes that little bitch suffer. She ruined a pair of pants that were worth more than she was! What did you want to do, exactly?”

“I think it’ll be more fun for you if it’s a surprise. It’s gonna be great, trust me. Just one more question: did you deafen her?”

“Nah. No point, it’ll just make her suffer more if she can hear the foals but can’t interact with them.”

Perrrrfect! Well, I’ll be back soon.”

“Any time, Rob.”

Sky quivered in fear, not knowing what was going to happen now. Sky am bad babbeh! Sky nu deserbe huggies ow wub! Sky am wowstest babbeh! he thought to himself, drowning in self-loathing.

Sky!” his daddeh called, entering the saferoom once more. “Your old human mummah told me you took all the nummies for yourself and didn’t share with the other babbehs or your mummah! She said that’s why the other babbehs went forever-sleepies!”

“NUUUUU! Sky twy shawe, bu’ odda babbehs an’ mummah nu wan num buggie-munstahs!”

“I don’t believe you. You’ve done nothing but lie to me this whole time. I don’t know how such a bad babbeh was the only one to live!”


“I’m giving you one more chance. If you can show me that you’re a good babbeh, I’ll let you stay. I’ll even get you a litter-pal so you won’t have trouble using the litterbox anymore.”

“SKY PWOMISE WIWW BE GUD BABBEH!” Sky cried, then he paused for a moment, processing the second part of the statement. “Wut am wittew-paw?”

“A litter-pal is the worst fluffy ever, they’re so bad their weggies and teethies run away and they have to num poopies and give lickie-cleanies forever!”

“Sky nu wan wittew-paw! Sky nu wan maek fwuffy num poopies!”

“Okay, okay. I didn’t know, I just thought it’d help you use the litterbox. If you don’t want one that’s okay, just learn how to use the litterbox.”

“Tank ‘ou, daddeh! Hao am Sky goin’ tu shu Sky am gud babbeh, daddeh?”

“Well, since you say you didn’t take all the nummies and make the other babbehs go forever-sleepies, you need to ask your mummah to forgive you. If your mummah forgives you I can give you another chance.”

“Bu’ mummah gu forebah-sweepies!”

“No, Sky. Your old human mummah saves your mummah. She’s alive.”

“WEAWWY? Mummah nu gu forebah-sweepies? Sky wan see mummah! Sky wub mummah!”

“Let’s go, then!” Sky was scooped up and carried outside, to his old housie. His old human mummah was there, waiting.

“Hey there! What’s your name?” she asked.

“Sky am cawwed Sky!”

“Well hello, Sky! Do you remember me?”

“'Ou am owd hoomin mummah.”

“That’s right. I decided to take your mummah back, but you were gone. I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

His old human mummah took him from his daddeh, who reached into his pocket and pulled out his talkie-box. Holding it in front of him, he followed the two. Sky was carried to what he recognized as his old saferoom.

But something was wrong! Standing there was a white stallion, not his mummah! Then he saw her, half-sitting and half-hanging on one wall, her seeing-place covered in a cloth and some kind of mask with a tube sticking out in her talkie-place! Sky looked back at his daddeh, confused and sickened.

He was set on the ground, and immediately, the stallion walked up to him, sniffing him. “Babbeh!” he cried. “Dat am Apowwo’s babbeh!” Sky couldn’t understand what was going on.

Sky,” his daddeh said. “Tell your mummah what you did. Ask her to forgive you.”

“MUMMAH! Sky am sowwy! Nu mean taek aww da nummies! Nu mean gib odda babbehs forebah-sweepies! Pwease, fowgib Sky!”

“Babbeh…kiww Apowwo odda babbehs?”

Apollo! Hush! Let him talk to his mummah!” his old human mummah scolded.

Milkbag thrashed her stumps and make desperate gurgling vocalizations, the scent and sound of her last foal driving her into a frenzy. But as much as she tried, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t offer forgiveness or explain what had really happened. Sky looked up at his daddeh, terror and self-loathing painted on his face.

“Well, Sky” his daddeh said, voice resigned. “Looks like your mummah doesn’t forgive you. I guess you really are the worst monster babbeh.”

“Nu! Nu nu nu nuuuuu! Sky am gud babbeh!”

“Lying still? I guess I’ll toss you where I found you.”

“Nu! Sky nu wan hab tummeh-huwties and forebah-sweepies! Am gud babbeh! Pwease, daddeh!”

SKY, that’s the last time you lie to me. You’re the worst fluffy ever! You know what happens to the worst fluffies, Sky!”


“Too late! You should have been a good babbeh! You shouldn’t have given the other babbehs forever-sleepies! This is what you deserve, Litter-Pal!”

Litter-Pal wailed as he was roughly picked up by his scruff and carried into the kitchen. One by one, his leggies were cut off, as he shrieked in agony. A pair of pliers roughly yanked his teeth out, one by one, barely meeting any resistance. As the wounds were cauterized, he passed out.

Rob looked down at the new litter-pal, impatiently waiting for him to wake up. A few small movements prompted him to pull out his phone and start recording again. After a little while, Litter-Pal’s eyes opened, and he began to wail again.

“Are you sure you don’t want him de-tongued?” Rob asked.

“Nah, it’s like music to my ears,” Kay replied, grinning. 'Look at Milkbag struggle when she hears it!"

“Okay then. I just wanna say one last thing to him before I go.”

Rob leaned down, close to Litter-Pal’s face, and whispered. “Remember when I said you killed the other babbehs and that you were a bad fluffy?”

The foal nodded.

“I lied. You were always a good fluffy.”

Rob laughed harder than he ever had at the expression of utter betrayal and hatred on the foal’s face, making sure to record every moment. This was perfect! He’d have to take a still from the video and make a poster out of it!

“Apowwo gib munstah babbeh wowstest sowwy-poopies!” Apollo roared as he was finally let back into the room.

Rob awoke again in the darkness. Again, he couldn’t move, but he desperately tried to vomit. Three weeks of eating rancid fluffy shit before he finally died! God, he could still taste it!

No! I don’t want to go through that again! I don’t want to be tortured or killed again! his thoughts echoed in the darkness, but the words that came back were distorted. His last plea to himself.


But relentlessly the light returned, and again he saw his face. A single moment whispered in his mind, the only memory the face brought to his mind. In that instant, he recalled an expression of pain and terror.

“NUUUUUUUUUU! Nu 'gain!”

Part Four


Man this is great. The abuser becoming a fluffy and being forced to relive all he put them through? Priceless.


This is all it took flip the script from wanting a pet to love to hate-filled deserve for abuse? Such a pathetic person, I’ll enjoy every bit of suffering he has to endure.


A good chunk of the abuse pieces use a variation of this trope. Going ballistic in less than a second is, alongside random bouts of abuse (e.g. brown mare is forced to eat an “ugly” colored babbeh because yes) very common. Obviously, it sparks questions like “how did the brown mare herself survive in this shelter/mill operation then?” and “why force her to eat a babbeh at all?” or “why the fook would you even want a pet if you instantly hate it for being happy?”.


He was just looking for any excuse. He would have done what he did anyway, it’s mostly about justifying it to himself.