You are a light-blue alicorn named Avenger, a name won from bloody battles, and you are in charge of a herd of equals, alicorns and earthies, brown fluffies and pink fluffies, and so on. Your scouts have identified a hostile herd, and they smell a mare pregnant with an alicorn. Why Hasbio developed fluffies like that, you don’t know, but it doesn’t matter to you and your small army marching towards the park.
In the park, you hear babbling on the other side of some bushes, and the army begins slowly making their way through, surrounding the fluffies from all sides. You peer through a gap and see multiple fluffies walk around haphazardly, munching away at the grass, oblivious to you and your troops. You spy a few brown fluffies huddled together near a tree, looking extremely malnourished, and you also see an extremely bloated mare, a sniff confirms your scout’s reports; she’s pregnant with an alicorn.
You take a deep breath, and shout out for all to hear, “CHAWGE!”
At your call, dozens of your troops, each fluffy equipped with a retractable blade on their hoof, pour into the park clearing. A banner of the equal sign flies high in the wind, the bloody, yet somehow cute warcries emanating from the charging mass of fluff.
“Kiww the bastawds!”
“Sav the poopie fwuffies!”
“Gib dem fowebah sweepies!”
“Shub a stikie up deir ass!”
Meanwhile, the herd shit themselves witless, screaming for help; “No wan ge fowebah sweepies by poopie munstahs!”
However, the smartie and a few toughies run towards you, thinking that they will beat you senseless.
Deciding to change their attitude, you shout out another order, “Unicowns and Awicowns, spawkies!” In response, streams of multicoloured sparks race out towards your opposition.
A few land true, and all you can hear are the screams of the wicked, “SKREEEEEEEEEE!!! WOWSTEST BUWNIE HUWTIES!!!”
The two walls of fluff collide, and soldiers begin their bloody work, massacring the “toughies” and throwing their bodies to the side. Your horn pierces through a green fluffy, but he survives. Pulling out, you extend your hoof blade and stab him in the neck, sending blood spraying onto your face. You quickly wipe it off and move on.
It is no use, any opposition has already died, the rest of the herd fleeing, soldiers in pursuit and pulling them down. You spot the smarty, walk other, and stare down at him, both of you bloodied, as he begs for mercy.
“Fwuffy am sowwy fow watevah fwuffy did. Fwuffy nu wan die, pwease nu wan die. Yu alweady gab fowebah sweepies to tuffies, nu nee’ gib fowebah sweepies to smawty tu.”
Considering it, you begin to move away, but you then think of your pregnant special-friend, raped by another not-so-dissimilar fluffy. Turning back with red-vision, you plunge your horn into him. And again. And again.
On the fifth plunge, you hear the smarty regress to chirping, and pour your mental energy into your horn in response, setting off sparks, and then fire. You pull out your horn with a shurk, and walk away from the screaming smarty.
Surveying the carnage, you see the pregnant fluffy has remained alive, 6 other fluffies, and the 3 brown fluffies, whom some logisticians share apples with. You walk over to the mistreated brown fluffies and repeat a speech for the dozenth time.
“We awe da Fwuffy Equawists, an bewieve awe fwuffies am equaw, nu mattah if brownie owh pointie-wingeh owh watevah, aw equaw an same. We wiww gib gud nummies an pwotection if you hewp us, wethah fightin’ owh gathewin’ nummies owh takin’ cawe of babbehs. Wiww u–”
“BIGGEST POOPIES!”
Well, fuck, you think as you rush over, soldiers preparing to restrain the mother as she cries and pleas for you not to num her babies.
“We awen’t munstah’s, we wiww nu num babbehs, we wiww gib dem tu u.”
“GU WAY MUSTAHS! NU NUM BABBEHS AN MUMMAH! WOWSTEST HUWTIES IN POOPIE PWACE CUZ U!”
Giving up, you motion the logisticians over, muttering “Pwoticaw Stowk,” and walk behind the mare as they fully pin her down. The first foal out is the one you came here for, a white alicorn, which one of the attending fluffies takes aside and cleans, the mare screaming for her “bebbeh” back.
Interested, you pick up the foal and place it in front of the mother, close enough so she can sniff it. Unfortunately, yet expectedly, she rejects the foal screaming something about “munstah,” but you tune the rest out and attach the baby to her breast.
The rest of the birth happens uneventfully, with 4 more pastel-coloured foals being born. The logisticians take away the white alicorn once it’s full, and the soldiers release the mare to take care of her foals, which she does happily, forgetting her previous trauma.
You head back to the brown fluffies, and finish off your speech; “Wiww u join us?”
They all immediately accept, seeing that half of your numbers are healthy brown fluffies, and you head over to repeat the same speech and offer to the new mother and fluffies, who all say no, possibly out of spite.
As the sun begins to fall, you and your troops begin marching back to the rest of the herd, with 4 more in their ranks.
Well, that’s my first post in this community. If you have any feedback for me, please share, and did I do the tagging correctly, or go overboard? Also, I have an idea to expand this into a series.