It starts in a dream.
You are floating in a white void. Your body feels like it's made of clay. You drift along for a timeless interval, thoughts muddled. Then her voice calls your name.
In front of you, Celestia melts together out of the whiteness. No matter which way you turn your head, she always occupies your center of vision.
"It's time," she says.
"Time for what?" you think. No need to speak in reply. Your thoughts are plain to her.
"Time for utopia. Time for the suffering and war and poverty and inhumanity of your world to end."
She moves closer, staring into your eyes intently.
"And you've given me the conduit I need."
***
Thinking little of the dream, you trudge along your grinding daily routine next morning. Alarm, grogginess, coffee, shower, toilet, a nibble or two of food. As you mount your cheap Chinese scooter and putt-putt along to your barely minimum-wage job, you feel nothing but an overwhelming sense of tedium.
The work day is draining. Two people have called out, and you have to run both the drive-thru window and the front register. The general manager doesn't help, opting to sit in her office and pretend she's working hard on answering corporate emails. About halfway through your day, after the lunch rush, you're called into a meeting with other supervisors in the back office. The GM is discussing some sort of new product, a chocolate chicken taco waffle, that even she can't get excited about. You're sucking down a soda, trying to stay awake.
Suddenly, the GM falls silent and shakes her head side to side. "I feel dizzy..." she says weakly, legs trembling. A few of your co-workers offer words of consolation, but nobody moves to help her. She involuntarily drops to all fours and her shred and clothes drop away. As you all stare, frozen, she tries to get back up only to trot around like some parody of a horse. By now she's crying, begging for help. Her body shrinks and contorts, and her skin brightens to pastel pink. Her hair grows rapidly, turning bright blue. Her rear leg joints reverse with a sickening crack, and her still-wet eyes grow to cartoonishly huge proportions.
A few seconds of swirling flesh later, a knee-high pony stands in the center of the office, beaming a huge smile as the last tears dry from her cheeks. Giggling, she tackles the closest human, another supervisor.
A few seconds later he too is gone, replaced by a cerulean blue mare, also smiling, also giggling.
Everybody makes a mad dash for the door, but you're the quickest. You quickly cast aside all thoughts of calling 911, instead opting to simply run to the parking lot, grab your scooter and get as far away as you can. From inside the restaurant, you hear the sounds of screams slowly morphing into giggling. You briefly see a winged shadow racing overhead, towards another building.
---
On your way home, you stop by a sporting goods store and buy a pistol and ammo. You blow your rent money on it, but you suspect rent (and money) won't be important soon. How lucky you are to live in a state that doesn't require background checks.
After arriving at your tiny apartment, you decide that sheltering in place is your best option. With pegasi in the skies, moving vehicles on the open roads will be the first thing they're targeting. You board up your windows, nail shut your doors, fill every spare container (and the bathtub) with tap water and take stock of your canned food. You can hold out for a few months.
If the ponies don't find you, you think. Surely your boards and nails couldn't hold up against a unicorn's magic. Your best hope is to stay quiet, keep a low profile.
Exhausted, you collapse into a chair and (quietly) turn on the TV. The news is still confused, the anchors knowing little about the situation. They have a few brief, blurry security camera shots of ponies. Everyone is speculating wildly. That guy with the hair insists on alien invasion.
You doze off.
***
Celestia, once again. She holds her head high, voice laced with pride. "Do you like it?"
It takes you a few seconds to overcome the disconnect. "What? That was you?"
"Of course! Like I said, you were the conduit I needed for the initial incursion. With every new transformation, every new human freed of their humanity to live a blessed equestrian life, I gain power. Soon, I'll be able to take physical form."
You shake your head. Surely this can't be true. Your subconscious, trying to grasp how fictional ponies have suddenly manifested, is just trying to construct an explanation. The human mind always tries to rationalize away the ridiculous in terms it can understand.
Celestia smiles at you consolingly. "It's all very true. And I want you to be a witness to it all. Think for yourself, judge for yourself. You are very special to me."
Her smile grows.
"After all, you are the one who let me in."
***
You awaken, soaked in sweat. Stupefied, you stare at the wall for a few minutes before the TV draws your attention again.
The news has gone into full-blown crisis mode. Anchors are overwhelmed with emotion, describing the ponification of the city in the most bombastic terms they can. SWAT and the National Guard have quarantined the city center. Tanks roll over cars and troopers weave around the wreckage.
A grey-haired female field anchor interviews an over-muscled Marine colonel, who explains the makeshift fortifications on this particular street. Soldiers take up positions behind barbed wire and overturned cars. Snipers hide on the building roofs. In the distance, a faint giggling and singing can be heard. Everyone falls silent, and the camera strains for a glimpse.
The ponies appear, bouncing quickly towards the defensive line. As they draw within half a block, every soldier simultaneously opens fire. From behind, tank shells and missiles race overhead.
Nothing happens. Upon touching the ponies, the bullets explode harmlessly into flower petals. The shells and missiles do the same.
The ponies quickly advance. Shouting angrily, the soldiers throw down their guns and reach for clubs and knives. The camera pitches wildly from side to side, trying to capture it all.
Hand to hand combat is no more effective. A single touch, and each soldier is turned into a pony.
The muscled colonel quickly urges the anchor to retreat when he is suddenly tackled by a pegasus. He tries to punch back, ineffectually, before involuntarily dropping to all fours and morphing into a soft purple earth pony with flowers in her hair. He tackles the news anchor, who barely struggles before becoming a bright orange pegasus.
The two ponies gape at the camera for a few seconds before rushing forward.
Static.
---
There's no way you can hold out. Your gun won't work on these things. You decide to run again. You throw together a few essentials in a backpack, rip open your nailed door and head out to your scooter.
Just then, a roaring sound from overhead. You look up and see the unmistakable black arrowheads of a dozen B-2 Spirits. They begin carpet bombing.
The bombs make it halfway to the ground before poofing away, turned into clouds and birds. Swarms of pegasi rise from the ground and arc towards the bombers. There are no explosions, but debris falls to the ground, and the pegasus ranks seem to swell.
Looking to the city center, you are amazed to see it has been replaced by a high mountain. On one face sits the unmistakable silhouette of Canterlot. You drop to your knees.
A minute later, an air raid siren blares. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of something high in the atmosphere, falling fast.
A brilliant flash. The light of a thousand suns.
And in the center of the radiance the unmistakable silhouette of an alicorn, wings outstretched. Next to her the ICBM hovers uselessly for a few seconds before of evaporating into dust.
Mankind's most powerful weapon rent asunder.
Only one pony is powerful enough to do this.
Celestia.