Jurassic Fluffies: Pilot

>Years ago, the Costa Rican government leased a few small islands to an American corporation.
>These islands were in a little-traveled  chain, and isolated enough for what the gringos wished to attempt.
>Genetic research, of an unprecedented and unpredictable nature.
>After multiple attempts to control their specimens, their laboratory site was abandoned with all the "stock" left to roam free.
>Now, the national courts have finally reached a ruling on the subject of these genetically engineered animals, to determine whether they should be considered invasive species or endangered ones, or neither.
>They're going to remain on the island, which is to be considered a dumping ground for the potentially dangerous products of genetic experimentation.
>The Costa Rican government already takes shit for letting lumber companies cut down their rain forests, they don't need the bad press from either killing the "rare animals" or letting them reach the mainland.
>To show they know what they're doing, the feds have taken another step: they've rounded up all the fluffy ponies from San José, meaning over 90% of such animals in the country.
>Ferals, domestics, they confiscated them all - they are also, after all, creations of potentially hazardous science.
>Now they've put several hundred of the things into crates and are dropping them by air right into the thick of the quarantine zone.
>Since the animals' very existence is a crime within Costa Rican borders, they're well within their rights, as the only alternative is destroying them all - MORE bad press.
>The first two crates are to be laid down by their tethers, right beside the field on the east side of a river.
>One chopper's crew disengages the clamps early, causing their container to drop before it was touching the ground and hovering was achieved.
>The pilot yells at them.
>They could have fucked up his altitude by changing the craft's weight all at once with it still in the air, that's dangerous.
>They do not worry for a second about the well-being of the fluffy ponies.
>Good thing, too, because almost half of those in this crate are killed when it impacts with the ground, and tips, sending dozens slamming into the un-padded sides
>The automatic doors open prematurely, and instead of walking out many of the fluffies tumble or are flung, breaking their limbs or necks.
>"NuuuuAHGK!" "Why fwuffy up-down?!" "Fwuffy weggies gif owwies..." "Whewe Kayso daddeh? Nuu can see in dawk pwace!"
>Others have their impacts lessened by hitting their fluffy compatriots' bodies, excellent natural padding.
>These putter out into the grass, peering around and blinking at the sunlight after their dark journey.
>They start to get a handle on their surroundings.
>"Big gwassies hewe fow nummies!" "Dis bawks fwuffies' housie nao?" "Fwiends haf owwies, nee' huggies."
> Many hugs are administered, but in some cases the hugged don't even respond.
>"Dese sweepy fwuffies nee' wake up!" "Mumma, why nuu pway?" "Owwie wawas make dis fwuffy wed!"
>One fluffy pony, a blue-and-tan unicorn, begins to take charge.
>He sets himself apart from the other fluffies, finding shade and raising his voice to get them to pay attention.
>It is hard; if he could look up he would know the rhythmic whooshing that threatens to drown him out is from the second cargo helicopter.
>"AWW FWIENDS WISSEN! WISSEN NAO!"
>They begin to pay attention, though the dams whose foals fell away from them are still distraught.
>They need to be stopped from either trying to figure out which ones are their own, or telling other fluffy mothers that no, the injured ones must belong to THEM, because they are good fluffy mummas who would not let their babies get owwies.
>The blue-and-tan unicorn, whose owner named him Poco, at least understands that they have been left here by he hoomins.
>Because he has ridden in the car a lot before, he knows that the box they were in moved, and now they are somewhere new.
>He also knows that the only chance they have of making it through - that HE has of surviving - is through their sticking together.
>"Dis new pwace fow fwuffies! Mebbeh scawy! Mebbeh nuu can find daddehs an' mummehs..."
>"Fwuffy nuu wike hoomins!" one notes.
>Others either shoot him angry glares, thinking of their human caretakers, or nod in agreement, having known nothing but pain at human hands.
>Between the helicopter's rotors above him and the moans of the hurt and dying, Poco needs to yell to be heard, which makes him angry.
>"But, haf gwassies fow nummies! Haf bawks-housie! Fwuffies stay hewe, be seff, hewp come!"
>One of the pegasus fluffies, whose broken leg is pinned under him, angrily snaps, "How bwue fwuffy nuu dat?! Bwue fwuffy come fwom dawk bawks too, nuu see tings!"
>By instinct, Poco feels his own chest and cheeks swell up at the prospect of confrontation.
>He has never done this before, but it happens without him thinking about it.
>He has taken in enough air to let out a true, wrathful yell at this injured fluffy pony, "'CAUSE, DUMMY FWUFFY! POCO AM SMAWTY--"
>He is cut off by thousands of pounds of shipping container abruptly being lowered by cable onto him.
>Poco vanishes so completely that his audience doesn't realize what happened - he probably should have noticed the shadow he was in was from cargo coming down towards him, if he was so smart.
>The other fluffies will never make the connection.
>"Whewe woud fwiend go?" one wonders innocently.
>"New bawks come!" one puts together, noticing the similarities between this container and theirs.
>Its doors open half a minute later, smoothly repositioning themselves as ramps.
>The passengers, a great number of fluffy ponies, toddle down the ramps eagerly, unhurt.
>"Sunny-shine!" "Dis pwace wook diff'went dan befow bawks." "Come wit mumma, babbehs!"
>Stallions, foals, mares and all, these fluffies eagerly examine the ground, the tree line of the jungle, the field of high grass just to the north.
>They barely seem to notice the other crate or the many injured and confused fluffies around it.
>They keep to themselves and are happy to behave as each other's friends, though they do not welcome the strangers to join them even if they are inclined to.
>There is a reason for this.
>She comes pushing her way out to the front of their group, a pink pegasus with a blue-and-white mane.
>"Nuu fwuffies go faw fwom hewd!" she announces. "Ow Candyfwoss puww back wif teef, an' haf boy-fwuffies hewp!"
>None of her herd even considers disobeying her.
>A small filly, her mother distracted by nuzzling her blood-covered brother and weeping that he needs to drink milk to get better, gets away from the injured group.
>She moves with the eager speed of the young, directly towards this pretty mare with so much personality.
>"New fwiend!" she calls. "You can pway wif babbeh an' mummeh an' udda fwuffies!"
>Candyfloss allows the foal to get close, surveying as her own herd and the strangers begin to watch.
>During their time in the holding pen, and then in the dark box, Candyfloss asserted her dominance over two challengers - one a hardened stallion from the jungle, the other a dump smarty whose broken teeth could have let his bites draw blood.
>She handled them in her own clever, extra-smarty fashion.
>Candyfloss knows she is a pretty fluffy, it has always let her get stallions to help her.
>It is how she survived after she ran away from her human - the cruel human who sent her to the vet, and made it so that she could never have babies.
>But this is the first time that she's had to deal with an entire herd separate from her own as a smarty friend...
>She has to send the right message to these strangers, to make what comes next simple for them.
>The brightly-smiling little foal at her feet looks up at her expectantly, legs wiggling as she attempts to get on her hindquarters for hug-position.
>She has probably only just learned to hug like a big fluffy.
>Candyfloss grins back, raises her legs in a similar hug-position.
>Then she brings them down directly onto the little foal's face, stamping her nose flat.
>Candyfloss is well-fed and strong, but it still takes a few stomps to begin caving in the tiny filly's skull.
>The baby screams, her small vocabulary completely forgotten as pain overrides her every thought.
>After a moment she can't scream at all, though even when her head is broken down into a bloody mass Candyfloss continues joyfully pounding her hooves on it.
>She hates other fluffies' babies as much as she would have loved her own, if she'd been allowed to have them.
>Even her own herd keep their foals away from her, if possible.
>"Mai babbeh!" squeals the mother, now realizing where her other child got to.
>She stumbles up to the body of her dead foal, while others are staring in shock. "Nuu, babbeh, nuu wie down! Mumma gif miwkies, gif hugs, gif--"
>She has the air knocked out of her while a large black-and-green earth fluffy head-butts her in the side.
>Her eyes are so full of tears that she can't even locate the baby she was just so desperately trying to reach.
>"Why huwt mummah, fwiends? Whewe babbeh?! WHEWE BABBEH?!"
>"Gif dat fwuffie owwies," Candyfloss states.
>Half a dozen stallions begin converging on the mare, biting and bucking, pulling her fluff in different directions.
>All of them want to impress Candyfloss.
>All of them are her among her special friends, and devoted to her for the pleasure she gives them.
>Like her baby's before her, the mare's screams become indistinct, and then stop as she degenerates into incoherent sobs.
>"BAD FWUFFIES!" Candyfloss bellows at the damaged group, which she thinks of as another herd, though it is not nearly so organized as that. "Wissen Candyfwoss!"
>"We bad fwuffies?" "Fwuffy nuu am bad!" "Meanie fwuffies huwt dat babbeh!"
>"QUIET, OW SPECIAW FWIENDS GIF OWWIES!"
>Seeing the several bloody-hoofed fluffies, who are still beating on the mare past the point at which she's been mortally wounded, they shut up.
>Candyfloss's own herd knows to be quiet when she is like this, or they could be next to face the wrath of her stallions.
>"Udda hewd nuu be cwose to Candyfwoss hewd. Dese Candyfwoss hewd gwassies! Dese Candyfwoss hewd housies! Aww udda hewd mawes... go 'way. Aww udda hewd foaws go 'way. Onwy boy-fwuffies stay. Stwong boy-fwuffies, nuu HUWTY boy-fwuffies, nuu UGWY boy-fwuffies."
>She says this with special emphasis, having noticed the various stallions with crippling, disfiguring wounds.
>The broken-legged pegasus from before cries, "Fwuffy nuu can go! Nuu can wawk!"
>Candyfloss hisses between her teeth. "Den dumb fwuffy be QUIET when go sweep fowevah."
>She pauses to let this settle in on the weakened fluffies.
>Barely making noise about it, the majority of the stallions capable of moving under their own power drift into her herd, accepted with hugs, some staring at the pretty, frightening leader with awe.
>"Nuu weave! Husban' nuu weave!" a red pregnant mare with a curly purple mane squeals after a stallion.
>He is shaking, not looking back, afraid of everything he's seen in this new place - especially being in a small group - and hypnotized by the gravitas of the beautiful pink smarty mare.
>He will never see the mother of his foals again.
>"Dummy fwuffies go 'way!" Candyfloss orders to the remaining mares, foals, and the few stallions who wouldn't leave their mates. "Dis Candyfwoss hewd pwace nao!"
>"Why mawes no come wif hewd? Be good fwiends!" begs one of the red pregnant mare's attendants.
>Candyfloss doesn't explain that stallions are what she derives her power from, because she can rely on them to serve her in exchange for sex.
>She doesn't explain that if she thought the herd would tolerate it, she would have her special friends crush every pregnant mare she met.
>She just shouts, "Speciaw fwiends! Make dese bad fwuffies go 'way!"
>Her lovers charge, and the innocent, frightened few of the hurt group who can move run for it.
>They run until they come to trees, and then keep going, some scattering a distance apart so that they're nearly lost, others staying so close together that they hurt each other with pushing.
>Eventually they run out of steam, and eighteen fluffy ponies plus the babies that could cling to their mothers' fluff, are panting and exhausted in a pile.
>They stopped beneath a tree with bright colors on it - a metal sign nailed right to the wood, rusted and faded but still pretty enough to draw a fluffy pony's eye to it as a good place to be.
>The pregnant red mare is crying, "Go back! Go back fow husban'! Meanie mawe nuu good fwiend fow him!"
>"Whewe mummah an' daddeh?" asks an orphaned foal just old enough to move quickly under her own power and eat solid food. "Fwiends hewp find fam'wy?"
>It has no idea that neither of its parents survived arrival.
>A gray earth fluffy mare whose eye was blackened in the crash is shaking her head repeatedly.
>No matter how many times she does this, the ringing in her ear won't go away - it's been there since she was hurt. "Fwuffy eaw make bad noise..."
>"Fwiends," peeps a pegasus with a 'fluffyshy' coloration, her somewhat spindly legs reaching out to try giving hugs. "Fwuffy scawed!"
>The group joins in one hug.
>This is when the cracking starts.
>It snaps and rustles as the trees are pushed aside, growing closer.
>It happens on the other side of the trunk they are nearest to, so the frightened animals have no idea what's coming until the cause of the noise steps around and walks right above them, one heavy foot dropping no more than a meter away before padding on.
>The parasaurolophus never noticed the fluffy ponies were there.
>Why would it?
>It's on its way to its next meal, and it can't eat meat.
>The fluffy ponies don't know this - all they can see is that a scaled monster forty feet long just crossed their paths, nearly crushing them, sniffing the air with its horrible elongated head turning to and fro.
>Most of them void their bowls in fear.
>The orphaned foal hides under a yellow stallion like it used to hide under its mama, and he allows her to, trying to shield her.
>Inside, though, he knows he can't keep her safe in this place.
>"Whewe fwuffies?! Why munstas hewe?!" the pregnant mare wails. "Wat dis pwace IS?!"
>Even if she could somehow read the sign on the tree, she would never understand its message.
>All she'd know is what is says, never what it means.
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