Air Raid: A Power Within Story
Gilda the Griffon and her wing-mates have been physically altered with sterilizing arcane vaginal-cybernetics.
The cybernetic implants utilize the law of equivalent exchange to allow their bodies to produce bombs as though laying eggs.
In addition to using the nutrient-rich eggs as alchemic material, a capitalization engine has also been installed to utilize kinetic energy from their flight to power the conversion and accelerate the production of eggs—and thus bombs—within their bodies.
They lay the bombs midair over entrenched changeling positions, dive-bomb heavily armored shell-walkers and occasionally engage with smaller bio-forms in aerial melees using beak and claw.
"Griffons are part cat and part bird, right?" asked the reporter, a unicorn using her magic to wield a pen and a pad of paper.
"We're part eagle and lion, but yeah, I guess that's correct."
"And the eagle part, that's in front, right? With the lion in back. Is that also correct?"
"It is."
"Then how come you lay eggs, like a bird, instead of giving live-birth like a cat?"
Gilda turned red, her blushing uncannily visible through the ruffled feathers on her face, which made it look like she was puffing up her cheeks.
"What kind of... I don't know, we just do."
Despite her distain for the reporter, Gilda tried her best to stay calm. She knew this interview would be a reflection of the Bombers, and needed to keep her cool.
"Interesting... Do you have a cloaca, or a pussy?"
"Don't call it that."
"Your cloaca?"
"I don't have a cloaca!"
"Your pussy, then?"
"Yes, that!"
"So you do have one."
Gilda felt like she had been tricked, and lowered her voice.
"Y-yeah..."
The griffon was feeling exhausted. Usually if someone made her feel this uncomfortable she would beat them to a pulp, but she couldn't do that here.
"Do they come from your pussy?" asked the reporter, hardly giving Gilda a moment to collect herself.
"What?" Gilda asked, distracted.
"The bombs."
"Oh, r-right. Yeah."
"We're coming up over the drop." said Gilda, speaking into her flight-mask, which was enchanted with a communication spell that simulated the properties of a short-range radio when paired with an electrum-treated auricular. The spell's living magic accounted for the mechanical particulars despite the vagueness of its directive, especially in relation to the enchanted item's own properties.
The griffons flew at a low altitude for better precision, but this made them vulnerable to pheromone flak. Fortunately the changelings had only recently begun setting up such defenses, as they were accustomed to being the raiders, not the defenders..
Still, the shimmering green clouds erupting in their midst made the griffons uneasy, and they had to swerve now and again to avoid being hit.
"Keep it together." said Gilda. "We need to hit our target with as much accuracy as possible."
A large cluster of semi-organic silos storing processed chitonite had been spotted by another team the day before and was made a priority target. If Gilda's group could take out that facility, it would set the enemy war machine back significantly and save themselves a whole lot of trouble.
"Ready payload!" shouted Gilda, a moment before a cloud of pheromones exploded in front of her. She was able to avoid most of it, but not all, and could feel the effects almost immediately.
It wasn't enough to slow her down, however. Like the others around her she relaxed her pelvic muscles until she could feel the first of the unfertilized eggs slip through the isthmus from the magnum and drop suddenly into the uterine synthesis chamber.
The process should have been mundane, if mildly uncomfortable due to its accelerated nature, but the influence of the pheromones—however minor—made the whole thing feel... good.
It was satisfying, like witnessing a golf ball settling into a hole; only she could feel it, inside her. She also felt her belly expand, and even the tugging of her flesh as it was stretched felt pleasant.
There was a warm sensation in her womb, like a belly full of hot soup, as the lattice-like structure of the synthesis chamber heated up while the egg was transmuted into a bomb.
As soon as the process was finished, the bomb was shunted into her cervix. It felt like she was being filled with water, or as though her body were a sock being stretched over a bedpost. It was painful, but her brain was also tingling in a way that made the pain somehow distant, and at that time any sensation at all seemed to edge her toward a climax.
It was a lot to handle, but despite everything she knew the feeling of the bomb in her cervix meant she needed to push, so she did.
"Bombs away!"
Before the oblong, metallic capsule even spurted out her vagina another egg had dropped into her womb with resounding waves of feeling. She was getting tired, but had to keep pushing. The target area was long and they needed to level all of it.
The first of the bombs went off on the ground a few meters off target. Then a series of subsequent detonations blanketed the site, annihilating the silos and painting the ground with a burning stripe.
By the time the bombs stopped falling Gilda had experienced two orgasms, and was on the edge of a third. Even though it was mostly due to the pheromones, she felt guilty because of the destruction. She couldn't really enjoy the orgasms, and would just have to deal with the frustration of not reaching the third until she was back in the barracks.
Of course, she had to visit the infirmary first to ascertain the full effects of the pheromones on her augmented body. It wasn't until after the post-mission interrogation that she really had something to feel good about.
The destruction of the silos was projected to stall the longstanding siege of Cloudsdale, and in the barracks her group received a warm welcome by the pegasi.
The next day, she didn’t awaken alone.
Author's Note
More weird warfare in the ‘Power Within’ universe. This one doesn’t feature any doppelgängers, but still takes place in the same conflict. There are many fronts in the war, and the augmentations provided by the EXEC only keep getting stranger. 
