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The Sadist's Adoption
By TheWestMesaFluffCollector

Chapter Two - Out From The Frying Pan...

Giovanni drove the short distance from work to his apartment. The mare had calmed down, and was now singing the usual mummah songs, as she tried to calm her newborn foals. She herself was shivering, in spite of the blanket Giovanni had draped over the box, and the heater going at full blast.

Giovanni parked in his designated space, having paid extra for the covered parking area. As he shut off the vehicle, he took a look around, wanting to make sure he was alone. The last thing he needed was to be seen by another tenant, much less to be seen by Madison Barton, who, upon hearing the peeping of foals, would likely cause him to abandon his plan. Giovanni knew that he would be unable to deny her the chance to raise the foals, especially after seeing how she had raised Morrissey, whom he regarded as the rare “good” fluffy.

However, luck was with the sadist. When he arrived, there was no one outside. Smiling, Giovanni exited the vehicle, and then unloaded the box full of ferals.

Walking up the stairs, and making sure that he had his keys in his free hand, Giovanni unlocked his door and hurried inside. Once inside, he calmly took the box over to the restroom, where he calmly set them down. Then, uncovering the blanket, he look down over at the msre and said calmly “ I am going to get some stuff to clean you and your babies. I'm also going to get some food, and some stuff for you to make a nest.”

The mare nodded. “Otay nice mistah.”

Then, closing the door, Giovanni walked over to another area: the front hall closet.

Opening the door, Giovanni saw himself staring into the staring eyes of a young green stallion. His coat had dulled, due to neglect and his diet. There were a series of scars that criss crossed his back. It was missing a couple of teeth from the side of his snout. But gone from the eyes of the stallion was the defiance that had made him so problematic to Madison Barton. There was no energy in his walk. He was, for all intents and purposes, broken.

“Hello, Stressball.” Giovanni greeted the stallion, with an emotionless voice. “I see you didn’t leave any ‘bad poopies’ today.”

“Nu mastah.” The stallion said quietly. “Stwessbaww nu wan make mastah angwy again. Su, owny nummed sum of da nummies, su nu haf as much poopies.”

“Ah.” Giovanni said, seeing that indeed, the bowl was only half way full. Pity. He was looking forward to trying out a new ‘sowwy stwing’ that he had purchased the other day. “Well, I have a surprise for you, today.”

Stressball looked up. “....mowe owwies?” He said sadly. “Pwease nu take oddah spechuw wump.”

Giovanni shook his head. “Not that. I decided to grant you your request. You have been a good fluffy lately.”

Stressball brightened up. “Mastah gif Stwessbaww fwend su nu feew so wonwey?” There was almost a note of excitement in his voice. Giovanni frowned slightly. The only time he heard it was the few times he had seen Madison pass by when he was by his window.

Giovanni nodded. “I did. She also has some ‘chripie babies.’ Four of them, to be exact.”

Stressball felt a smile creep onto his face. “Dat eben bettah! Babbehs am da bestest fing ebbah!”

It was quite the change for the stallion, who had before been less than enthused with his other foal siblings, much less foals in general. He supposed that three months of abuse and psychological battery had prompted a change in habits.

“Yes. I'm sure they do. in the meantime, I want you to use your original name. You are going to be ‘Pickle’ again.” Stressball smiled at the mention of his old name. He had rejected it at first. Now, he welcomed it. It was as if he was slowly regaining some sort of dignity.

“Now, I want you to make yourself look as pretty as possible. I will introduce you to your new friend in a little bit.”

“Yes, mastah!” Pickle said as he began to groom himself. He was excited. This would be the first time he had any sort of potentially friendly company since he had run away. He was determined to make this work.


Giovanni returned to the bathroom with a small cat bed that he had kept in the event of another adoption, a couple of old blankets, three towels, and a bottle of shampoo. Balanced on top of all of this was a bowl that had some old stale kibble that he used for Stressball, now again Pickle.

The mare trotted up to him, and looking up at his face, said calmly “Can nice mistah gif nummies nao? Nee’ make bestest miwkies fo’ babbehs.”

Giovanni put down the phone. Then, he calmly went over to the tub and began to fill it.

The mare had begun to munch on the kibble while Giovanni tested the water. He waited until the water was a warm temperature. Though it would be infinitely more amusing to use cold water, it would break the fragile trust he already had with the mare. He wasn’t ready to destroy that just yet.

The mare had been keeping an eye on Giovanni as he was filling the tub. Once he had a small amount of water, he turned it off, and then twisted to reach for a foal. The mare suddenly moved, but not fast enough to prevent him from seizing the honey colored foal on her back. She began to panic. “Wai nice mistah haf wawas? Wai tak babbeh? Pweause, nice mistah, wawa am bad fo’ fwuffy.” It was almost as if she was anticipating being drowned. Giovanni chuckled. That would have been no fun.

“I need to clean your babies.” Giovanni said calmly. “I need to make sure they are clean and healthy if you are going to life with me.”

The mare began to panic. “Wai?! Wawa am bad fo’ babies!”

Giovanni quickly moved, flicking the mare in the snout, causing it to recoil. In his hand, the honey colored foal began to peep and crapped in his hand. “Shut up.” He growled. “I need to make sure they're healthy. Don’t ever raise your voice to me again.”

The mare began to puff her cheeks before thinking better of it. “Fine.” She said.

“That’s better.”

Giovanni gingerly picked up each foal, all while being targeted by the watchful eyes of the mare. He didn’t care. He wanted to see what he was working with.

He carefully, and gently washed each of the little foals, washing off remaining fluids, dirty, and other grime off of each one. Their downy first fluff had already come in, giving each one a soft, silky type of sensation. The pastel green unicorn was a colt, while the second, a pastel blue earthy, was a filly. Had her previous pet shop had kept her, she might actually have had a future as a easter foal producer. The latter two, he had noticed, were the pair that the mare seemed to be doting over quite a bit. The red Pegasus was a filly, which may have explained why she had been so attentive, as it’s wings were still in the early stages of development. They were soft, delicate. Giovanni smiled, wanting to pull them off. He resisted the urge. There would be time.

Giovanni would return each one to the mare, causing her to take the baby and coo “Is otay, babbeh. Babbeh smeww su pwetty nao.” It was the last one that he ran into problems. The sandy brown, no, he realized, he was almost golden colored, was a unicorn. He quickly sexted, causing the full to cheap loud for its mother. It was a male.

“Wai bestest babbeh haf huwties?” The mare demanded. Giovanni again flicked her nose.

“Shut up. He is just being a bad babbeh.” Giovanni couldn’t stand bratty foals. He quickly submerged it under the water, causing it to trash wildly, before bringing it up, chirping and coughing.

“Nu!” The mare pouted. “Bestest babbeh nebbah du anyfing wong?”

So you think, Giovanni thought, mildly amused that the mother had already had a sense of the baby’s behavior, even though it had thus far had had the lifespan of a fart.

Giovanni took another look at the bestest baby. It was still fussing, even as it continued to cough after being carefully dried by Giovanni. The mare was being very protective over this one. Inwardly, he felt this was a good thing. He just might have a candidate for a bestest baby, he thought. Good.

Now finished with the foals, Giovanni turned towards the mare. She was already standing with her arms outstretched, waiting for him to return the honey golden foall. Instead, Giovanni grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, and without much ceremony, tossed the golden colored turd with the rest of his sibilings.

“Nuu! Wet mummah gu wif babbehs!” The mare bellowed.

“Not until you are clean.” Giovanni said curtly. “You need a bath, especially if you want to smell pretty for your babies.”

“Mummah awweady smeww pwet...EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” The mare screamed as Giovanni tossed her into the rapidly cooling water.

“You smell like shit, and I just worked to clean your foals. If you keep this up, I will toss you back outside into the snow, with ‘cowd fwuff’ that will ‘num youw babbehs.’” Giovanni replied, using the ‘mummah speak’ for emphasis.

The mare sniffled. She had no choice. Especially since, she had caught a small glint of something in Giovanni’s blue eyes.

“Huwwy, wawa am bad fo’ fwuffeh.” The mare replied.

Giovanni began to scrub the mare, leaving built in grime and dirt, blood and vaginal fluid, all into the water. He found that she was still not great colors, even after her fluff was cleaned. She really did look like an old, dull toy.

He inspected her, thankfully finding no parasites. He checked her teeth, prompting another whine, before inspecting her calloused hooves. Finally, he checked her ‘poopie pwace’ and ‘spechuw pwace’, finding her no worse for wear. Then, he turned to the mare’s teats, inspecting each one. They were perfectly healthy and, after squeezing a bit of milk out, relatively responsive. Melody squirmed a bit uncomfortably.

It was time for part one of Giovanni’s tests to begin.

Trying to sound his most concerned, he told her, “I think one of your ‘miwky pwaces’ isn’t working.”

Amer became panicked. “Wha du daddeh mean?”

Giovanni became calm, much like he did when he dealt with gunshot victims. “It means that you can't feed your babies. If you give your babies any of your milk over any of time, they will die. So you can't feed your babies. At all.”

This scandalized the mother. “ Nu! Nu can be twue. Mummah miwkies am fo’ babbehs tu gwow big and stwong, nu fo’ fowebbah sweepies.”

Giovanni snickered, then composed himself. “I am serious. If you give your babies your ‘mikwies’, something bad will happen. To them or to you. Trust me on this one.”

The mare nodded, tearfully looking at her chirping children. “Fwuffeh...fwuffeh pwomise.”

Giovanni noted the usage of the term, ‘fluffy.” Though she didn’t have a name yet, it could also be a tell that she might be lying, only to defy him later. He shrugged, then towel dried her, before putting her back with the chirping mass of fluff. He hoped it was the later. He had something in mind if it was.


After leaving the mare, pondering a name for her for the remaining time she had on this earth, he went back to check in on Pickle. The stallion had finished attempting to groom himself, having given himself ‘wickie cweenies’, to try and give his coat a bit of a shine to it.

Giovanni knelt down, unhooking the large brush that was on the wall. Pickle saw it and immediately entered into a submissive stance, pleading “Pweace Mastah, nu gif Pickwe huwties wif bwushie. Nu du nuffin. Pwomise.”

“Easy.” Giovanni said, and began to brush the fluffy. The stallion was still tense, refusing to relax in the event abuse began anew.

“So, are you ready to meet your new friends?” Giovanni asked out of curiosity. Pickle nodded fearfully, his eyes wincing as the knots in his fluff were pulled out.

“I have to tell you something, Pickle.” Giovanni said, non chalantly. “I think she is going to be a ‘bad mummah.’”

This caused Pickle to suddenly respond. “Wai? Wai ‘ou fink oddah mummah is bad? Aww mummahs wub deir babbehs!” He responded confidently.

“You are living proof that mummah’s could give a shit about their babbehs.” Giovanni quickly retorted. The stallion’s eyes filled with tears as he remembered that he himself was abandoned. It felt so long ago. There was a brief moment of happiness that he hadn’t appreciated at the time. And now, his current living situation.

“How...how...du mastah knu dat oddah fwuffy am bad mummah?” Pickle asked.

“She has bad ‘miwkie pwaces’, and has been feeding her ‘babbehs’ her ‘bad miwkies’ all this time. That means she will her babies will go ‘fowebbah sweepies’ if she keeps feeding them.”

Pickle was horrified. “Dat am...dat am….howwibwe….”

Giovanni nodded. “I am going to have to find some other way to make sure that they live to grow up big and strong.”

The green stallion nodded. “Pickwe wan hewp.”

Giovanni arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And what makes you think you’re so special?”

The stallion swallowed hard. “Pickwe can...maybe hewp babbehs gif gud miwkies?”

Giovanni hadn’t thought of that. In a way, it was probably a better idea of how he was going to turn the mare, whom he decided to name Melody, against him. Why gaslight the mare, when instead he could let the idiot pig hamster come to her own conclusions? All that would be necessary would be to get a ‘miwkie’ station from FluffMart, and then teach Pickle how to work it.

“Alright.” Giovanni replied. “I will show you how you can help feed them tomorrow. But remember, you have to make sure they are okay. If one goes ‘fowebbah sweepies’, you are going to get the ‘sowwy stickie’ again.”

Pickle gulped. “Otay mastah.”


Satisfied that Pickle knew his role, Giovanni went back towards the bathroom, where he would inform the mare of her name. He figured he would break the news about the new feeding arrangement when he bottle fed the babies that night.

Then, he opened the door, and felt fresh rage creep up on him.

Melody was feeding the babies. Against his orders. She had the honey colored one on her teats, with the remaining three waiting their turn.

“Sowwy babbehs, bu’ mummah nu hab enuff nummies yet. Nee’ fo’ nyu daddeh to gif nummies, then can gif miwkies tu aww babbehs.” The golden foal peeped in frustration at the lack of sustenance to be had for himself, although he had drained one teat and was halfway done with the second.

“Melody, what the fuck did I tell you?” Giovanni said, his fist clenched.

*FuckingGasp* “Am fwuffeh namsie Mewody? Dat am bestest name ebbah?” Melody said with excitement.

“Cut the shit.” Giovanni replied. “I told you you couldn’t feed your foals.”

The mare scoffed at him. “Bu’ bestest babbeh was hungwie? And den, miwkie pwace hab miwkies aftah Mewody hab nummies. Wook?” She took off the honey colored foal and placed her red one. It immediately started to suckle furiously. “See siwwy daddeh, miwky pwace am jus’ fine.”

Giovanni scowled. In his past experience, ferals were normally more grateful to their rescuers. As such, they were usually more willing to accept whatever their rescuer said as gospel. However, he had never adopted one with foals before. It appeared that the ‘mummah instinct’ was powerful.

She would need to be….broken, Giovanni thought. All he needed to wait was for her to sleep. “I’ll be giving you dinner later.” Giovanni said. “Remember what I told you what would happen if you fed your foals your milk.”

Melody shrugged it off, as Giovanni left. Giovanni didn’t have ‘miwkie pwaces’ or babies for that matter. What did he know if ‘miwkies’ were bad or not?


Giovanni later introduced Pickle, the former and future stressball, to Melody, who seemed to be happy to meet another fluffy in the residence. Pickle, however, was somewhat apprehensive about meeting the mare, especially after he saw that she was nursing the foals. However, he seemed more than happy to say hello to the foals, in particular the pastel blue earthy filly. Perhaps, he viewed it as an opportunity to make up for his earlier treatment of his brother? He supposed he had to look into that.

In any case, Giovanni had promised the two ‘sketti’ in celebration of Melody’s adoption. However, in the case of Melody’s portion, he doctored it by pouring in a healthy serving of sedatives. Enough to knock out the mare for the night, and make her numb to all but the most excruciating pain.

Which was exactly what he had in mind.

It appeared that Melody might have more of a rebellious streak than he anticipated. But that was fine. He had a solution he was eager to try.

The drugs almost immediately took hold. Pickle had noticed and asked “Am mummah Mewody otay?”

Melody swayed. “Yuss...am...jus...su sweepies...sketties su nummie….” Then, after taking a step towards her nest, she collapsed on the floor with a thud, a small jet of ‘sowwy poopies’ flying out of her behind.

Pickle was disgusted. “Dat….nu knuw wat dat mean….” He trotted over and nudged Melody. She was soundly snoring. “Wai am mummah sweepin? Haf babbehs dat nee’ hugsies.” Indeed, the quadruplets were loudly peeping, as the crash of their mother had awoken them.

Giovanni walked into the bathroom and smiled at the scene. Perfection. Then, squatting down, he turned to Pickle and said, “I think you should take the babies into your room tonight.”

Pickle was uneasy. “Bu….nu wan take babbehs away fwom mummah. Wat if she gets wowstest heart huwties?”

Giovanni shook his head. “I think she’ll be fine. Besides, I’ll leave the door to your room and the bathroom open, so when she wakes up, she can collect the babies from you.”

Pickle hesitated, but didn’t see any problem with the logic. “Otay. Dat soun’ wike gud idea.”

“I thought so.” Giovanni said. He proceeded to place each one of the peeping foals on the stallion’s back, all but the honey colored one settling down once the allure of fluff and warmth returned. The honey colored shithead continued to bleat wildly. He’d have to fix that, Giovanni thought.

Pickle trotted out of the bathroom, singing his own version of a mummah song. “Bestest Pickwe gonna take cawe of babbehs….bestest Pickwe pwomise huggies and wub….Pickwe pwomise to help wub aww da babbehs...Pickwe pwomise babbehs wiww nebbah get nu owwies….”

In the end, he would come to regret that he uttered the last phrase.


Now alone with Melody, Giovanni walked over to his chest of drawers in his room, where he opened up the top drawer. Packed in neatly with his ties, there was a tupperware that he kept secret.

During his stints in the emergency room, GIovanni would find all manners of different cases in which people maimed and occasionally removed themselves from the gene pool. More than once, the source of the trip would also be brought over by the relatives, in order to provide doctor’s with a better idea of how to treat their sick loved ones.

In one of these cases, a cancer patient that sought a alternative method for treating his throat cancer, Giovanni had made sure to palm the small jar that the gentleman had been treating himself with: Cansema Otherwise known as ‘black salve.’

Giovanni walked closer to the sleeping mare, who was sleeping soundly from the large amount of tranquilizer he had mixed into the sketties. He smiled, in the anticipation of what was to come.

Melody was turning out to have a bit more fight in her than he expected. That was fine with him. It meant that he needed to escalate things a bit.

A fluffy pony mare was hardwired, above all else, to love and care for her foals. It was why young mares were programed to ask for babies after two months old. It was why mares ran away to find a random feral if their owners denied them. It was why mares who might be considered to be the best of pets would suddenly run away from otherwise loving homes, if they even perceived that their foals were in danger of ‘fowebbah sweepies’ from their owners. It was why they would fight owners if there was even the slightest chance that their owner was going to deny them the pleasure of feeding their foals. It was why certain mares protested having their foals adopted, and would train them to fight fluffies who only meant the best for them, if they thought that their owner was going to take them away. A mare’s life, for the most part, was their foals.

To take them away, then, would be to take that a part of that life away.

Melody had wished for him to adopt her, and her foals, in order for them to not perish. Therefore, their lives were his to command, and control, Giovanni thought as he opened the canister, exposing the dark substance within.

Therefore, it was his right, then, to be able to feed them, when he wished, however, he wished. And his right, to take away her ability to do so in kind.

Giovanni moved the four foals away from Melody, placing them in a small foal pile, before covering them with a blanket, to minimize their peeping. Plus, he did not want any of the black salve to touch the foals.

Then, he began to spread it across both of her teats, making sure to coat the nipples. Melody was too far under to notice, nor to smell the reaction as flesh immediately began to react with the vile substance. Satisfied, he got up, and walked out.

Making his way to the front closet, where he found Pickle had snuggled with three of the four foals, the honey colored bastard still peeping for Melody to come for it

Annoyed, Giovanni took the little foal and pinched it’s mouth and nostrils closed. The foal trashed for air, try hard to breathe before it finally stopped struggling and passed out. Giovanni released the foal’s snout and heard it breathe raspy, uneven breaths. He chuckled. This one would be the first he would play with.


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TheMonsterBehindMyFace: I love it. Thank you for updating.
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Fluffus: Thrilling abuse. Moar, please!

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PeanutButterJellenheimer: Wow. I love it! Stressball/pickle is a surprising good fluffy. Respectful, caring, and earnest. Guess abuse works!
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Anonymous1: Your writing is of quality, but this update seems rushed.
A few gramatical and spelling errors, and the continuity error where Pickle walks out with the foals and then they are back with Melody for Giovanni to move (probably due to a revision), but you do seem to have the ability to write better than most here.
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WestMesaFluffCollector: @Anonymous: Yeah, I caught the continuity error riiigght after I posted. And I proof read the bejesus out of it. Happens, I suppose.
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Anonymous2: More please

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SneakingTail: I saw that "Kerry's Story" and "Life of a reasonable Hugboxer" reference
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Anonymous3: Never head of Cansema before. That shit sounds scary.

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differential_Sloth: @Anonymous: Oh it's nasty shit. Melody's gonna wish she was never born.
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WestMesaFluffCollector: @SneakingTail: Yeah, it was a shout out and a homage to two of the author's that got me to post on the Booru. There's a lot more, but Hugboxing_Faggot and Sloth are the only two that are still active.

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Anders_Breivik: @Anonymous: Look up on Youtube, it's full of idiots that claim to be able to cure cancer with "black salve" and baking soda
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Gardel: Proceed......

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fiddwe: Felt a bit rushed but this storyline is shaping up to be sooo good!

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fiddwe: Felt a bit rushed but this storyline is shaping up to be sooo good!
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Papa_Khorne: Incidentally, I missed those references
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Anonymous4: "Giovanni arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And what makes you think you’re so special?”

The stallion swallowed hard. “Pickwe can...maybe hewp babbehs gif gud miwkies?”"

Jesus Christ I was grinning like a madman until I continued past this part. I honestly thought he was going to try fucking feeding the babies his cum. That would have been hilarious. "Hewe babbeh... Suck no-no stickie, gib miwkie..." while he sadly nudges them towards his growing erection. God that'd be fucking hilarious. Stupid ass fluffies.
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Anonymous5: Exactly how you should treat a fluffy. Break them so they can do no wrong.
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Sorrowkandy: Oh man, I'm getting excited to see what happens lol