Make Fluffies Fly
The public had one demand; make fluffies fly. Many little boys and girls wanted that. Their pegasus and alicorns to fly beside them as they ran or be able to fly while on a leash like a kite. Hasbio PR had tried to explain why that was not just unattainable, but a bad idea. Predators, their bone structure, obstacles…they were not listened to. They wanted their pegasi and alicorns to fly. It was up to the scientists to make it happen. The scientists reiterated the problems but were told to make it happen. “Make those fluffies fly.”
It was quite the set of challenges. First of all, their wings were too small. They were purely decorative. The wings could flutter, but did nothing. They would have to be bigger. Second problem was that fluffies were chubby. Their fat little bodies were designed to be round and cute. Huggable like teddy bears. They’d have to make these flying fluffies slim, but cute. They had to have the muscles to fly. Along with that was also the problem of bones. The third problem was tied in with their body. They were incredibly frail. The scientists proposed adding more bird DNA and making their bones matrixes so they were hollow, yet strong. They had to be strong to be able to withstand landing and a few tumbles. The scientists did look forward to this portion. They’d always intended to make fluffies more durable without increasing their strength. Children could be rough with their toys, after all. The final initial problem was the digestive tract. It had been initially said as a joke. ‘Imagine the fluffy shit falling on us all if they could fly!’. Soon it had become a horrifying reality. Fluffies, especially foals, shit at a moment’s notice. That could be improved with diet so it was logs…but it made it no less pleasant to be shit on, and that was if the fluffy didn’t drop like a rock.
It took endless sleepless nights, countless coffees, and enough red bull that the sight could make a scientist get the thousand yard stare from memories…but the prototypes were ready. To engage the public, and to get rid of the little abominations, there was a drawing for six lucky children to have a genuine Flying Friend Pegasus. Three stallions and three mares. The parents/guardians were warned to not let these fluffies breed; either with each other or otherwise. They were not designed to carry children to term. At least not yet. Attempts could lead to trauma, physical and mental for both fluffy parties and mental for whoever may watch.
The Flying Friends were an envy. Their design was sleek and more aerodynamic. Their tails and manes were shorter, and the fluffies more muscular. Their lungs were a larger size along with stronger bones. Their fur was shorter but thicker. Gone was the chubbiness and round design. They looked more like horses, but with smaller bellies. Their legs were longer so they could land without landing on their faces. They’re re also smaller than the average fluffy. Somewhere between foal and adult. Perhaps the size of an adult runt. However many changes were made, Hasbio knew it was only a matter of time.
The first stallion to go had been named Lightning. He was a blue flying friend with a yellow mane. A handsome, agreeable fellow. He liked to run and fly alongside his human Tommy. They spent many days in the family’s backyard. Enough days for a hungry hawk to notice.
It had happened in a flash. One moment Lightning was trying to bank in circles like he was taught, and suddenly a larger body plowed into him.
“SCREEE! OWIES!” Lightning screamed as talons dug into his soft, yielding flesh. His light weight that allowed him to fly was a horrible disadvantage now, allowing the bird to go higher with its prey. Lighting tried to give hoofsies to the hawk, but he had not been made any stronger. He was still weak enough so he could not hurt a human.
“Noooo! Lightning!” Tommy cried until his parents came to comfort him.
“It’s okay, Tommy. We’ll get you a bird. You can fly it inside.” His parents consoled him.
The second fluffy to die was a mare named Rosy. She was pink with a red mane. She’d been a very beautiful fluffy. Pretty enough to turn the heads of any stallion. Even if the flying friends looked different than a typical fluffy, they were still beautiful. Their large wings made them get more attention.
Rosy was left out in the backyard garden while her owner Cara went to school. This did not go unnoticed by the neighbor’s fluffy, Bandicoot. Bandicoot was an orange fluffy with a blue mane and tail. He’d steadily dug a hole under the fence, driven by his desire for special hugs with the pretty mare. It took a couple days and shredded paw pads, but he squeezed his way under the privacy fence.
Rosy had just been flying, and touched down. The flying friends came down in a lazy glide, touching down first with their front hooves, and propelled forwards, so their back hooves touched the ground and they came back down on the front. It was an odd galloping land, but they did that or landed on their face. She fluttered her pretty wings, unaware of the danger behind her…until it hit her from behind.
“SCREEEE! WHY OWIES!” Rosy cried, looking back at the fluffy. He was larger, stronger, and heavier than she was.
Bandicoot gave a grin that would look sinister to another fluffy. “Mawe smeww pwetty. Band wan speshul huggies.” he said. No ask. He wanted them, and he always got what he wanted.
“Nu! Mummah an mummah’s mummah say nu speshul huggies. Nu speshul fwiend.” These fluffies had been tank grown, and the desire for babbehs wasn’t there. At least not yet. They had working reproductive tracts, to look the same as other fluffies. They were never meant to have babbehs. At least not yet.
“Nu cawe. Wan enfies.” Bandicoot said and pushed his way in. “Enf. Enf. Enf. Enf.”
“NUUU! MUMMAH! HEWP! BAD SPESHUL HUGGIES!” Rosy screamed, beating her hooves on the ground.
“GUD FEEWS!” Bandicoot eventually yelled, falling off Rosy.
Rosy whipped around, sore but angry. She had a strong sense of justice. “BAD FWUFFY! GIB BAD HUGGIES!” She reared up and stamped down on Bandicoot’s special lumps.
“SCREEEEEEEEE!” Bandicoot’s scream was far louder and higher pitched than Rosy’s has been. Loud enough to get the attention of Rosy’s owner and Bandicoot’s.
It didn’t take a genius to find out what happened. The hole in the fence and the semen running from Rosy’s behind… Rosy’s owner’s mother kicked up a storm. These were flying friends! They weren’t meant to be enfed. How could someone just let their fluffy dig under the fence?! How could he not be watched!? Nevermind Rosy wasn’t being watched either.
There was a worry that Rosy was pregnant, but she was still stamping her hooves and angry at Bandicoot. No mummah song. Things must be fine…so they thought.
See, the flying friends weren’t meant to breed. They had no maternal instinct. They were not made to carry babies.
In the following days Rosy’s behavior had not changed and it was assumed she was not pregnant. She still run around and flew…but steadily she gained weight. It was announced “Wosie nu can fwy!” In a panicked voice. Rosy tried to take off into the air, but the weight of her larger belly dragged her down. She began to cry. “Huuuhuuu! Wosie wan fwy! Wan fwy nao!” She stamped her little hooves, a tantrum at the unfairness of her weight.
A diet was implemented, but ineffective. Cara’s mother worried the flying friend was defective…until she remembered Bandicoot. Did that wretched fluffy impregnate Rosy? They were warned to not breed them. She sighed. This was simple enough. A single dose of Foal-B-Gone from the store could work. She picked up some on the way home from work and put it in Rosy’s food. A simple miscarriage should occur.
It was not a simple miscarriage. Rosy was up at night screaming in pain. Cara was crying at all the blood coming out of her fluffy. Cara’s mother was realizing this was too much for a miscarriage. There were small malformed beans that were the underdeveloped foals…but something more pink came out. Were those…yes, those were the internal organs. Cara’s mother swore, ignoring her daughter’s look of shock. The mother made up an excuse about special huggies having killed Rosy. A white lie, but she wasn’t going to tell Cara that Rosy was dead because of her. Rosy was sent back to the facility, and the Foal-B-Gone tossed into the garbage.
The third death was Teddy. He was teddy bear brown with a light tan face and belly. Just as his name implied, he resembled a teddy bear with wings. He had a sweet disposition, and loved to cuddle as much as he loved to fly. As his owner Carl lived in an apartment, Teddy was often taken to the park for flying. He was also able to show off to all Carl’s friends and the other fluffies.
The way to take off was similar to landing. Running a few steps and flapping their wings. Teddy took to the skies! He flew about head level, a laugh of joy escaping. “Teddy am bestest fwying fwiend eva!” He proclaimed. He flapped his wings, following Carl’s directions about which direction to fly around a tree. However, the next instruction came too late, as neither Carl or Teddy saw the third tree in time.
“TEDDY! LEFT!” Carl yelled, but Teddy could not correct in time. Instead, the fluffy flew headfirst into the tree, his neck and head crunching with impact. The fluffy fell to the ground, lifeless.
Wario was the fourth fluffy to die. Although his look was more like Mario; red with a blue mane, he was not named for his appearance. He was named for his ability to fart and how frequent it was. It seemed to even propel him in the air at times. The name ‘Gassy’ was discouraged. His owner Bobby liked fart jokes, and laughed whenever Wario farted, which only caused the fluffy to do so more to please his owner. So much so that he could fart on command.
Today had been a rougher day of farting. Bobby was in an especially joking mood, having Wario fart in the air many times already, and Wario’s gas had run out. He was told to fart again, and he knew he had to make Bobby happy, or he’d start screaming and throwing stuff. Wario tried hard, clenching his stomach and opening his sphincter…
PPPBBBBHHHHTTTTT
Liquid shit ran from Wario’s ass, right onto Bobby’s head. The boy froze for a moment, then started to scream, throwing a tantrum. He threw rocks and toys at his fluffy, making him land. The flying friends were not made for evasive maneuvers. They could bank in a circle but anything more advanced was not worked out yet. No loop-de-loops, sadly.
Wario landed on the ground with a thump, only to be kicked by an angry boy. Bobby was merciless, red faced under all the shit. He stomped his flying friend to death, crushing his head and demanding a new fluffy when his parents got home.
The fifth fluffy to meet its demise was Silver. She was a silver pegasus with a white mane. Her legs were longest and elegant. She liked to move them in the air as if she were galloping. “Fwying fwiend wuv fwying!” She would frequently say. She was taught to drop out of the sky or into a steep dive into her owner Tiffany’s arms. So much so that she forgot the proper landing protocol.
Silver had been flying for her owner, showing off how high she could go. Light glinted off her fur. She heard her mummah’s mummah call for them to come in for lunch. Silver grinned. “Nummies!” She said excitedly, and went into her normal dive. Tiffany was already heading inside. Silver forgot how to land, and was coming in fast. Too fast.
CRUNCH
Her legs shattered as she landed hard.
“SCREEEEE! WOWSTEST HUWTIES!” SIvler screamed, her legs at unnatural angles, bleeding from multiple lacerations. She was huuhuuing pathetically. More than just her legs were broken. The pieces and torn muscles extended to her torso. She died within the hour.
The final flying friend to die was Terry. She was a mare that was purple with a lavender mane. She was named by her owner, Teri. Her demise was something unforeseen by the team. These flying friends were engineered to be friendlier, and more tolerant towards pets. A complaint of owners had been their cowardly fluffies being too afraid of the other household pets, no matter how many times they were told they were friends. These flying friends were made to be friendly to other animals, no matter the type. Through they would show fear and run if attacked.
Terry was best friends with her owner’s dog. A lazy and fat golden retriever named Goldie. Goldie was well behaved other than one incurable habit. Begging. She would stare longingly at food on the counter or the table. Stare with not so puppy eyes at anyone who was eating in hopes to be offered a scrap to her. There was a reason the dog was fat.
One day Terry noticed Goldie staring at the counter, food at the end and out of reach. Terry had an idea. “Gowdie! Wet Tewwy hewp!” She said, wagging her tail.
Goldie did not understand much, but knew her name. She looked at the strange pony creature that had come to her home.
“Stand an stay!” Terry commanded.
Goldie was well trained and listened. She looked at the creature as it took a running leap and landed on her back, flapping its wings a few times.
Using Goldie as a stepping stool, Terry could get up to the counter. “Nummies!” She exclaimed. She took a piece for herself first, but the chocolate lodged in her throat. Terry began to cough and choke, unable to dislodge the food on her own. With no human around, Terry choked to death on food. She’d gotten along too well with her barkie friend.
After the terrible news that all six flying friends died, the scientists got to put a nicely worded ‘I told you so’ to the public and the PR team. As it turned out, fluffies were not made to fly.