Part Five
Mint was happier than she could ever remember being. She had her babbehs, a nice daddeh who never got mad at her or yelled, a nice saferoom, and the best nummies she’d ever had. After all she’d been through in the past few weeks, it seemed like paradise.
Of course, she was still sad about Maple, but whenever she heard her babbehs chirp she didn’t have much room in her heart for sadness. Her babbehs were the most precious things in the world, whatever her dummeh old daddeh might have thought. Nothing was more important than babbehs, than her babbehs!
In spite of her happiness, she felt a little twinge of sadness as well when they chirped. She wanted so badly to hold them, to hug them, to sleep with them in her nest. She wished so badly that they would grow stronger so they could leave the safebox and she could see them; hearing them alone just wasn’t enough. But she would rather never see them again than let them go forever-sleepies, so she contented herself with hearing them and singing to them.
Every day, she listened as their voices grew stronger. Sometimes she could hear them moving around in the safebox, crawling to and from the feeder to get their milkies. Oh, how much she wished she could be giving them milkies instead of a cold, lifeless bottle! How she wished to see their little faces and watch them play!
Nevertheless, she didn’t ask for them to be taken out of the sorry-box. No, not the sorry-box! The safebox! They were good babbehs who wouldn’t be in a sorry-box! She didn’t ask for them to leave the box, because she feared what might happen. If she lost them, she’d have lost everything; toys and nummies and a warm nest would mean nothing if she lost her babbehs, lost her last link to Maple.
So she sat, and she sang, and she talked to the babbehs, even if they were too little to reply except with the occasional chirp or cheep. Every day, she looked forward to when they’d be strong enough for her to see them. Every morning, she cried a little when her daddeh told her they weren’t ready yet, but cheered up a bit when he lifted her to see them sleeping in the box. They were so little, and they slept so much, she never saw them move! But she could hear them chirping and playing, so she didn’t fear for them.
…
“Chirp! Cheep! Pway! Babbeh wub pway! Wub baww!”
Mint’s heart instantly soared. Her babbeh was a talkie-babbeh now! Soon they’d be big and strong enough to leave the safebox! Soon she’d get to hug them and play with them! Soon she wouldn’t be alone at night anymore! Maple would’ve been so proud!
“Babbeh am tawkie babbeh? Mummah am su happy! Babbeh tawk tu mummah?”
But there was no response, just the sounds of playing and chattering about toys. Mint felt crushed for a moment, then realized that they must not recognize her. After all, they’d been in the safebox for so many forevers! Maybe now her daddeh would take them out of the box! Maybe now she could make up for lost time, let the babbehs know they had a mummah who loved them so much!
“Mint pway tuu!” she cried, pushing one of the big balls around. It’d been a long time since she’d taken time away from listening to her babbehs to play. She’d forgotten how fun it was. “Tee hee hee! Baww am funsies! Run ‘way, baww, Mint gon’ getchu!”
Pushing the ball, she began chasing it around the saferoom, ramming it with her head whenever she caught up to it. This was so much fun! She couldn’t wait to play with her babbehs! “Baww am bestest toysies fow fwuffies an’ babbehs!” she called out, trying to interact with her babbehs as best she could through the walls of the box. Moving as fast as she could, she butted the ball hard and it rolled away faster than she could run.
“Mint gon’ getchu, baww!”
She chased after it, before noticing with horror that it was heading towards the cable. The cable she’d promised not to touch! She ran as fast as she could, but the ball was faster. With a dreadful inevitability, it hit the cable right where it joined the safebox. With a soft but horrible “pop!” the cable came loose, falling to the floor.
Mint froze in terror, but nothing happened. Maybe everything would be fine. The she noticed the absence of a sound that had been so prevalent recently that she’d stopped hearing it. The sound of the safebox! Dashing forward, she picked up the cable and tried desperately to put it back, but her lack of dexterity, worsened by her panic, made it impossible.
The happy chirping and noises of playing continued from inside the safebox, and she began to calm. Still shaking, she carefully replaced the cable as best she could, but the safebox still didn’t make any noise. Terror turned to dread, but still the sound of her babbehs comforted her.
Suddenly, the sounds changed from happy chirps and chattering to confused noises. The stress was too much for Mint to handle, and she collapsed to the floor, her hooves over her eyes. Pwease, safebox, pwease nu wet babbehs gu forebah-sweepies!
“CAFF! Wai babbeh tawkie-pwace huwt?”
Mint was hit with a sudden nausea as the terror returned, stronger than ever. Retching, she emptied the remains of her dinner onto the floor. Sketties that she’d been so happy to have seemed to mock her. Desperately, she moved the cable again and again, trying to make the safebox work once more.
“SCREEEEEEE! BABBEH HAB WOWSEST TAWKIE-PWACE HUWTIES!” a cry of pain and terror erupted from the safebox.
“NU! BABBEHS NU HUWT! MUMMAH SABE BABBEHS!” Mint called out desperately. "DADDEH!
But daddeh wasn’t here, he’d left to go get more nummies. Left to get nummies because Mint had asked for the special babbeh-nummies she’d seen on FluffTV. There was nobody to help, and nothing she could do.
“CAFF! CAFF! Babbeh am scawed! Babbeh nu…CAFF…nu can bweaf! Mummah hewp babbeh! Babbeh nu wan gu forebah-sweepies!”
"Pwease nu gu forebah-sweepies, babbeh!
“CAFF! CAFF! SCREEEEEE! Screeee! Scree…”
“NU! SISSIE GU FOREBAH-SWEEPIES! BABBEH SCAWED! MUMMAH! CAFF! SCREEEEEEEEE”
Mint lay in a heap on the floor, soaking in her own vomit, as she heard the sounds of her babbehs suffering and dying. One by one they went silent, and with each voice quieted she despaired more and more. Mint am wowstest mummah ebah! Mint gib aww babbehs forebah-sweepies! Mint sowwy, babbehs! Mint sowwy, Maple!
…
The front door opened and closed, and Mint was jarred from her stupor. Maybe it wasn’t too late! Maybe her daddeh could still save them! Deep down, she knew the truth, but desperation filled her with a glimmer of hope. Her babbehs couldn’t be dead! They couldn’t!
“DADDEH!” she shrieked. “DADDEH! PWEASE HEWP BABBEHS! HAB WOWSEST HUWTIES!”
There was a thump as bags of groceries tumbled to the floor, and rapid footsteps towards the saferoom. In a matter of moments, her daddeh was there.
“Mint! What happened?”
“Baww mobe noodwe! Mint nu wan bu’ meanie baww-”
She was cut off as her daddeh rushed over to the safebox and began frantically working with the cable. After a moment he pulled it out, flipped it over, and shoved it back in. The safebox began making its normal sounds once more. With a sigh, he looked in through the clear top and shook his head. He turned to Mint, anger in his eyes.
“Bad upSCREEEEEEEE!” Mint cried as she was lifted by the scruff of her neck, her complaint interrupted by a scream of horror as she saw into the safebox. Her babbehs laid in contorted poses, puddles of blood forming under their mouths. As she struggled and wailed, her daddeh opened the lid of the safebox, and the horrible smell of dead foals assailed her.
“What did you do?” her daddeh growled.
“Baww maek safebox nu wowk!”
“A BALL? You expect me to believe that? WHAT DID YOU DO?”
“Mint wewe onwy pwayin’ wiff baww! Nu mean tu maek baww bweak safebox! Meanie baww!”
“So you were being a dumbass and broke the safebox?”
“Fwuffy nu bwoke safebox!”
“And now you’re lying to me. Listen, you little bitch, you just killed all your babbehs.”
“NUUUUUUUUUUU! PWEASE SABE BABBEHS!”
“Too late. This is your fault. You wanted the safebox in here, and you broke it.”
“Nuuuu…”
“Yes! You killed your babbehs! You’re the worst mummah ever, and the wowst fluffy I’ve ever seen!”
“Daddeh…”
“What do bad fluffies get, Mint?”
“Sowwy-box an’ sowwy-stick an’ nu gud nummies…”
“That’s right! From now on you don’t get any good nummies and you’re staying in the sorry-box until I think you’re a good fluffy again! But first, you get the sorry stick!”
“Pwease, daddeh!”
“SHUT UP! SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!”
Mint fell silent, quivering in terror from her daddeh’s anger. Fear of what would happen to her fought with self-loathing. She was the worst fluffy ever! She killed her babbehs because she wanted to play! She was a dummeh fluffy and now her babbehs were dead!
She was carried down the stairs into the basement, where she was unceremoniously slammed down onto a table, knocking the air from her lungs. As she half-heartedly struggled, a sharp stinging impact across her rump caused her to wail in pain. Again and again the sorry-stick struck her, until clumps of fluff fell to the table and blood was running down her now-bald back.
“SCREEEEE! SCREEEEEEEEE! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
…
Mint sat in the darkness of the sorry-box, wincing in pain every time her small movements ripped open a scab on her back. She knew she should be crying for her babbehs, but she couldn’t accept that they were gone. How could they be gone so soon? How had everything gone so wrong?
“Mummah wub babbehs, babbehs wub mummah, dwink wots of miwkies, gwow big an’ stwong!” she sang to herself, over and over, hoping that wherever they were, her babbehs could hear her.
“Mummah?”
Mint’s head jerked up, the sudden movement sending waves of pain down her back. That didn’t matter, though, not now. Her babbeh! She could hear one of her babbehs! Maybe they were safe after all!
Through one of the air holes in the side of the sorry-box, she saw movement. The room outside the box was dark, but whatever was moving was glowing faintly. As her eyes cleared of tears, she saw a pink foal. HER pink foal!
“BABBEH! 'OU AM OTAY!”
"Mummah? the babbeh asked again. Mint noticed that her movements were strange. Something was off…
With a thump, the side of the sorry-box in front of her fell away, and she could see her babbeh better. The hope that had shone so bright in her heart fell away, and sickening terror overwhelmed her. The babbeh was floating, and glowing!
“SCREEEEE! GHOSTIE-BABBEH! NU HUWT MINT!”
“Wai mummah kiww babbeh?” the ghost asked, the words sending icy claws of guilt and fear through Mint’s chest.
“Mummah nu mean tu huwt babbehs! Nu wan gib forebah-sweepies!”
“Mummah kiww babbeh! Babbeh hatchu!”
“Nuuuuuu! Mummah sowwy, babbeh! MUMMAH SOWWY!”
Suddenly, a sharp impact hit the back of Mint’s neck, forcing her face towards the floor. A harsh, distorted voice spoke from above her, making her freeze in horror. “Dummeh fwuffy wet munstah hoomin gib Mapwe forebah-sweepies! Munstah fwuffy kiww Mapwe’s onwy babbehs!”
“NUUUUUUUUUU!”
“Babbeh gib mummah wowstest huwties!” the ghostly foal cried, and drifted towards her. As much as she struggled, she couldn’t shake the icy grasp of her special-friends vengeful spirit. As the foal’s hoof touched her, a wave of searing agony burned through her.
"SCREEEEEEEEEEE!
“Mapwe an’ babbeh nu wet dummeh Mint ebah sweep 'gain! Gib wowstest huwties forebah!”
…
Rob walked into the saferoom, passing the various props he’d used to torment Mint on the way in. It had been shockingly easy to convince the fluffy that her stillborn babbehs were still alive in the incubator, all it’d taken was a few faux-foals and a 24-hour stream of fluffy foals he’d found online. Unfortunately, that also meant his recommendations were full of hugbox garbage now, but it was a price he was willing to pay.
Honestly, fluffies had such poor eyesight that all it took was a taxidermized fluffy of approximately the right color, some basic puppeteering, and some glow-in-the-dark paint to convince them that there were ghosts present. As if such a thing as a spirit actually existed! Still, it’d been funny, even if he hadn’t been able to sleep.
Cowering in the back of the sorry-box, too frightened to move, Mint was muttering to herself. He’d expected this, since she hadn’t seemed like the most mentally resilient of fluffies to begin with. Oh well, easy come easy go. “Wan die. Wan die. Wan die. Wan die.”
Well, time to dispose of her. Torturing a fluffy in the “wan die” loop wasn’t worth the effort, since they didn’t really react. Maybe he should just kill her and leave her in the bio-waste bin. It’s not like he had any use for her anymore, and Kay probably didn’t need another milkbag.
Suddenly, he remembered how those imbeciles at Fluffy Control had scratched up his car trying to get a feral fluffy from underneath it, and inspiration struck. He could still use her, and teach those assholes a lesson while he was at it! This was going to be fun.
Humming to himself he fetched the tube of glue from his kitchen drawer and a couple of large pills from his medicine cabinet. As an afterthought, he grabbed the remnants of a scented candle as well. Soon, his preparations were complete, and he force-fed the pills, now coated in wax, to Mint, as well as a generous amount of rotting food he’d fished out of a dumpster. She didn’t even struggle as he applied the glue.
…
“Hey, Jack. We got another fluffy here. Looks like another abandoned one.”
“Just toss it in the back with the others, we can check them for chips when we get back. Come on, it’s almost lunch time and I want to find somewhere to wash my hands before i eat.”
“Huh, someone glued her mouth shut. Ew, they glued the other side too. I think she’s better off if he just put her down now.”
“Nah, don’t bother. Gluing is so common that the shelters can handle it no problem, she’ll be fine.”"
“Okay. She’s trying to say something, though.”
“Look, Al, I know you’re new to this, but just put her in the truck and we can handle it later, we can’t waste time trying to help every fluffy by ourselves, and we’d probably do more harm than good trying to remove the glue. Give her here. Ugh, she’s in the “wan die” loop. No point trying to save her.”
“Should I leave her?”
“No. We’d just get called back here to take her anyway. Come on, let’s go.”
“Okay, okay.”
Mint was dumped into a pen with several other fluffies in the back of the truck. She stared blankly ahead, trying and failing to mutter her mantra of despair, but not seeming to notice. The other fluffies gave her a wide berth, out of a vague sense that they shouldn’t make her suffering worse.
In her stomach, the wax surrounding the seltzer tablets eventually gave way to the digestive fluid, and the tablets began to react. Mint’s attempts at speaking became louder and more rapid as she swelled from the gas. Wounds along her back reopened, and she stretched further and further.
Eventually, with a sickening tearing sound, her body ruptured, spraying the inside of the truck and the surrounding fluffies in a mixture of blood, gore, and decaying material. A cacophony of retching, wails, and scardie-poopies erupted from the assembled fluffies. Unfortunately, Mint had been the last stop before the long drive back to the designated fluffy shelter, so it was over two hours before the fluffies were able to escape the reeking truck.
Part Six
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Nuuuuuuuu!
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Good grief! Rob was indeed one cruel abuser. 
Not that it’s any comfort to the fluffies he killed but now he’ll have to suffer what he put them through. Karma really is bitch. 
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